THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Comefcic  Ibumaine 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 
ADVENTURES  OF 

JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

AND  HIS  FRIEND 
MR.  ABRAHAM    ADAMS 

BY 

HENRY   FIELDING 


Gbe  Englisb 
ComeMe  Ibumaine 


Masterpieces  of  the  great 
English  novelists  in  which 
are  portrayed  the  varying 
aspects  of  English  life  from 
the  time  of  Addison  to  the 
present  day :  a  series  anal- 
ogous to  that  in  which 
Balzac  depicted  the  man- 
ners and  morals  of  his 
French  contemporaries. 


"The  whole  town  hath  known  it  this  half  year' 


Cbe  Enfllteb  ComcMe  Ibumatnc 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

JOSEPH    ANDREWS 

AND  HIS  FRIEND  MR.  ABRAHAM  ADAMS 


BY 


HENRY  FIELDING 


}!M*<Q 


7S 


NEW  YORK 

Gbe  Century  Co. 
1904 


J 


Copyright,  1902,  by 
The  Century  Co. 


Published  November,  IQ02. 


345M 


PR 
J71 

PUBLISHERS'   NOTE 

Henry  Fielding,  by  common  consent  of  the  critics  the  greatest 
of  English  novelists,  was  born  near  Glastonbury  in  Somerset- 
shire in  1707  and  died  at  Lisbon,  whither  he  had  gone  for  his 
health,  in  1754.  The  greater  part  of  his  life  was  spent  in  Lon- 
don. At  the  outset  of  his  career  there  he  was  obliged,  as  he 
said,  to  choose  between  the  work  of  a  hackney  coachman  and 
that  of  a  hackney  writer,  and  selecting  the  latter  applied  himself 
to  the  composing  of  plays.  Meeting  with  but  indifferent  success 
in  this  occupation,  he  turned  to  the  law,  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  in  1740,  and  later  became  a  justice  of  the  peace  and  chair- 
man of  quarter  sessions. 

His  first  novel,  "  Joseph_AndrejKS_"  (published  in  1742),  was 
suggested  by,  and  is  in  part  a  parody  of,  Richardson's  "  Pa- 
mela" (which  is  included  in  this  "  Comedie  Humaine  ").  The 
superfine  sentiment  and  priggishness  of  that  famous  romance 
were  distasteful  to  Fielding's  vigorous  and  eminently  masculine 
mind,  and  he  undertook  to  make  the  career  of  the  virtuous 
Pamela  ridiculous  by  means  of  the  parallel  career  of  her  virtuous 
brother  Joseph.  The  burlesque  was  not,  however,  carried  far, 
for  his  characters  soon  demanded,  and  received,  independent 
treatment  —  the  result  being  at  once  a  masterpiece  of  fiction,  one 
of  the  most  perfect  of  prose  comedies,  and  a  picture  of  real  life 
which  has  seldom  been  surpassed.  It  is  not  so  much  a  parody 
on  the  work  of  Richardson  as  its  complement.  The  sentimental 
printer  endeavored  to  show,  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  very 
commonplace  moral  ideal,  how  men  and,  especially,  women 
ought  to  conduct  themselves;  the  virile  playwright  actually 
showed  how  the  real  men  and  women  of  his  time  did  conduct 
themselves.  There  is  in  Fielding's  picture  of  the  life  of  his 
country  and  time  too  much  of  frank  vulgarity — too  much  cer- 
tainly for  modern  taste;  but  apart  from  this,  it  is  worthy  to  be 
placed  among  the  greatest  masterpieces  of  realistic  fiction. 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 

Preface xv 

BOOK    I. 

PAGE 

i   Of  writing  Lives  in  general,  and  particularly 
of  Pamela;  with  a  word  by  the  bye  of  Colley 

ClBBER   AND   OTHERS 3 

ii   Of  Mr  Joseph   Andrews,  his  birth,  parentage, 

EDUCATION,  AND  GREAT  ENDOWMENTS;  WITH  A 
WORD   OR   TWO   CONCERNING  ANCESTORS     ....         5 

in    Of  Mr  Abraham  Adams  the   curate,  Mrs   Slip- 
slop THE   CHAMBERMAID,    AND   OTHERS      ....         7 

iv   What  happened  after  their  journey  to  London     i  i 
v   The    death    of    Sir    Thomas    Booby,    with    the 

AFFECTIONATE  AND  MOURNFUL  BEHAVIOUR  OF  HIS 
WIDOW,      AND      THE      GREAT      PURITY      OF     JOSEPH 

Andrews '3 

vi   How  Joseph  Andrews  writ  a  letter  to  his  sister 

Pamela J5 

vii   Sayings  of  wise  men.     A  dialogue  between  the 

LADY  AND  HER  MAID;  AND  A  PANEGYRIC,  OR 
RATHER  SATIRE,  ON  THE  PASSION  OF  LOVE,  IN  THE 
SUBLIME   STYLE 1 9 

VIII   In   which,  after  some  very    fine  writing,  the 

HISTORY  GOES  ON,  AND  RELATES  THE  INTERVIEW 
BETWEEN  THE  LADY  AND  JOSEPH;  WHERE  THE 
LATTER  HATH  SET  AN  EXAMPLE  WHICH  WE  DE- 
SPAIR OF  SEEING  FOLLOWED  BY  HIS  SEX  IN  THIS 
VICIOUS    AGE 22 

vii 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACE 

i\  What  passed  between  the  lady  and  Mrs  Slip- 
slop; IN  WHICH  WE  PROPHESY  THERE  ARE  SOME 
STROKES  WHICH  EVERY  ONE  WILL  NOT  TRULY  COM- 
PREHEND   AT    THE    FIRST    READING 26 

x  Joseph  writes  another  letter:  his  transactions 
with  Mr  Peter  Pounce,  etc.,  with  his  depart- 
ure from  Lady  Booby 3° 

xi   Of  several  new  matters  not  expected      ...     32 

xii  Containing  many  surprizing  adventures  which 
Joseph  Andrews  met  with  on  the  road,  scarce 
credible  to  those  who  have  never  travelled 
in  a  stage-coach 35 

xin   What  happened  to  Joseph  during  his  sickness 

AT    THE    INN,    WITH    THE    CURIOUS    DISCOURSE    BE- 
TWEEN him  and  Mr  Barnabas,  the  parson  of 

THE    PARISH 41 

xiv   Being  very  full  of  adventures  which  succeeded 

each  other  at  the  inn 44 

xv  Showing  how  Mrs  Tow-wouse  was  a  little 
mollified;  and  how  officious  Mr  Barnabas 
and  the  surgeon  were  to  prosecute  the  thief: 
with  a  dissertation  accounting  for  their 
zeal,  and  that  of  many  other  persons  not 
mentioned  in  this  history 49 

xvi  The  escape  ote  the  thief.  Mr  Adams's  dis- 
appointmf  't.  The  arrival  of  two  very  ex- 
traordi1  y  personages,  and  the  introduc- 
TION of  Parson  Adams  to  Parson  Barnabas    .     53 

XVII  A  PLEASANT  DISCOURSE  BETWEEN  THE  TWO  PARSONS 
AND  THE  BOOKSELLER,  WHICH  WAS  BROKE  OFF  BY 
AN  UNLUCKY  ACCIDENT  HAPPENING  IN  THE  INN, 
WHICH  PRODUCED  A  DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  MRS  TOW- 
WOUSE   AND    HER    MAID   OF   NO   GENTLE    KIND       .       .       6l 


xvm   The  history  of  Betty  the  chambermaid,  and  an 

ACCOUNT     OF      WHAT      OCCASIONED      THE     VIOLENT 
SCENE    IN   THE   PRECEDING   CHAPTER 

viii 


66 


CONTENTS 
BOOK    II. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I   Of  divisions  in  authors 70 

11  A  surprizing  instance  of  Mr  Adams's  short  mem- 
ory, WITH  THE  UNFORTUNATE  CONSEQUENCES  WHICH 
IT   BROUGHT   ON   JOSEPH J2 

III  THE  OPINION  OF  TWO  LAWYERS  CONCERNING  THE 
SAME  GENTLEMAN,  WITH  MR  ADAMS'S  INQUIRY  INTO 
THE   RELIGION   OF    HIS   HOST 77 

iv   The   history    of    Leonora,  or    the    unfortunate 

JILT 83 

V  A  DREADFUL  QUARREL  WHICH  HAPPENED  AT  THE  INN 
WHERE  THE  COMPANY  DINED,  WITH  ITS  BLOODY 
CONSEQUENCES    TO    MR    ADAMS 98 

vi   Conclusion  of  the  unfortunate  jilt 106 

VII    A   VERY    SHORT    CHAPTER,    IN    WHICH    PARSON    ADAMS 

WENT   A    GREAT    WAY I  IO 

VIII  A  NOTABLE  DISSERTATION  BY  MR  ABRAHAM  ADAMS; 
WHEREIN  THAT  GENTLEMAN  APPEARS  IN  A  POLITI- 
CAL  LIGHT 112 

IX  IN  WHICH  THE  GENTLEMAN  DESCANTS  ON  BRAVERY 
AND  HEROIC  VIRTUE,  TILL  AN  UNLUCKY  ACCIDENT 
PUTS   AN   END   TO   THE   DISCOURSE I  1 5 

x  Giving  an  account  of  the  strange  catastrophe 
of  the  preceding  adventure,  w,  tch  drew  poor 
Adams  into  fresh  calamities;  nd  who  the 
woman  was  who  owed  the  preservation  of  her 
chastity  to  his  victorious  arm 120 

xi  What  happened  to  them  while  before  the  jus- 
tice.      A   CHAPTER   VERY    FULL   OF    LEARNING  .       .       .    1 25 

XII  A  VERY  DELIGHTFUL  ADVENTURE,  AS  WELL  TO  THE 
PERSONS  CONCERNED  AS  TO  THE  GOOD-NATURED 
READER 131 

xiii  a  dissertation  concerning  high  people  and  low 
people,   with   Mrs   Slipslop's   departure   in   no 

ix 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

VERY  GOOD  TEMPER    OF   MIND,  AND   THE  EVIL   PLIGHT 

IN    WHICH    SHE    LEFT    ADAMS    AND    HIS    COMPANY    .       .     135 

xiv   An  interview  between  Parson  Adams  and  Parson 

Trulliber 141 

xv  An  adventure  the  consequence  of  a  new  instance 

which  Parson  Adams  gave  of  his  forgetfulness.   147 

xvi  a  very  curious  adventure,  in  which  mr  adams 
gave  a  much  greater  instance  of  the  honest 
simplicity  of  his  heart,  than  of  his  experi- 
ence in  the  ways  of  this  world 150 

xvii  a  dialogue  between  mr  abraham  adams  and  his 
host,  which,  by  the  disagreement  in  their 
opinions,  seemed  to  threaten  an  unlucky  catas- 
trophe, had  it  not  been  timely  prevented  by 
the  return  of  the  lovers 1 57 


BOOK  III. 

1   Matter  prefatory  in  praise  of  biography  .     .     .     164 

ii  a  night-scene,  wherein  several  wonderful  ad- 
VENTURES befel  Adams  and  his  fellow-trav- 
ellers   169 

in   In  which  the  gentleman  relates  the  history  of 

his  life 178 

iv  A  description  of  Mr  Wilson's  way  of  living. 
The  tragical  adventures  of  the  dog,  and 
other  grave  matters 201 

v  a  disputation  on  schools  held  on  the  road  by 
Mr  Abraham  Adams  and  Joseph;  and  a  dis- 
covery NOT  UNWELCOME  TO  THEM  BOTH      ....      205 

vi   Moral  reflections  by  Joseph  Andrews;  with  the 

HUNTING  ADVENTURE,  AND  PARSON  ADAMS'S  MIRAC- 
ULOUS  ESCAPE 209 

VII    A  SCENE  OF   ROASTING,  VERY  NICELY  ADAPTED   TO  THE 

PRESENT   TASTE    AND   TIMES 2l8 

X 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

vin  Which  some  readers  will  think  too  short  and 

OTHERS    TOO    LONG 226 

ix  Containing  as  surprizing  and  bloody  adventures 
as  can  be  found  in  this  or  perhaps  any  other 
authentic  history 230 

x  a  discourse  between  the  poet  and  the  player; 
of  no  other  use  in  this  history  but  to  divert 
the  reader .     234 

xi  Containing  the  exhortations  of  Parson  Adams 
to  his  friend  in  affliction;  calculated  for 
the    instruction    and    improvement    of    the 

READER 238 

xii  More  adventures,  which  we  hope  will  as  much 

please  as  surprize  the  reader 241 

xiii  a  curious  dialogue  which  passed  between  mr 
Abraham  Adams  and  Mr  Peter  Pounce,  better 
worth  reading  than  all  the  works  of  colley 
clbber  and  many  others 248 


BOOK  IV. 

1  The  arrival  of    Lady  Booby  and  the  rest   at 

Booby-hall    ' 251 

ii   a  dialogue    between    mr  abraham    adams    and 

Lady  Booby 255 

in   What  passed  between  the  lady  and  Lawyer  Scout    258 

iv  A  short  chapter,  but  very  full  of  matter;  par- 
ticularly THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MR  BOOBY  AND  HIS 
LADY 261 

v  Containing  justice  business;  curious  precedents 
of  depositions,  and  other  matters  necessary 
to  be  perused  by  all  justices  of  the  peace  and 
their  clerks 262 

vi   of  which  you  are  desired  to  read  no  more  than 

YOU   LIKE  268 

xi 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

vii  Philosophical  reflections,  the  like  not  to  be 
found  in  any  light  french  romance.  mr 
Booby's  grave  advice  to  Joseph,  and  Fanny's 
encounter  with  a  beau 274 

viii  a  discourse  which  happened  between  mr  adams, 
Mrs  Adams,  Joseph,  and  Fanny;  with  some  be- 
haviour of  Mr  Adams  which  will  be  called 
by  some  few  readers  very  low,  absurd,  and 
unnatural 28 1 

ix   a  visit  which  the  polite  lady  booby  and  her 

polite  friend  paid  to  the  parson 287 

x  the  history  of  two  friends,  which  may  afford 
an  useful  lesson  to  all  those  persons  who 
happen  to  take  up  their  residence  in  married 
families 290 

xi   in  which  the  history  is  continued 296 

xii  Where  the  good-natured  reader  will  see  some- 
thing  WHICH  WILL  GIVE  HIM   NO  GREAT  PLEASURE      299 

xiii  The  history,  returning  to  the  Lady  Booby,  gives 
some  account  of  the  terrible  conflict  in  her 
breast  between  love  and  pride;  with  what 
happened  on  the  present  discovery     ....     30i 

xiv  Containing  several  curious  night-adventures, 
in  which  Mr  Adams  fell  into  many  hair- 
breadth 'SCAPES,  PARTLY  OWING  TO  HIS  GOODNESS, 
AND   PARTLY   TO   HIS    INADVERTENCY 306 

xv  The  arrival  of  Gaffar  and  Gammar  Andrews, 

WITH  ANOTHER  PERSON  NOT  MUCH  EXPECTED;  AND 
A  PERFECT  SOLUTION  OF  THE  DIFFICULTIES  RAISED 
BY   THE   PEDLAR 311 

xvi   Being  the  last.     In  which  this  true  history  is 

BROUGHT   TO   A    HAPPY   CONCLUSION 315 


Xll 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

After  the  drawings  by  W.  Small 
"THE  WHOLE  TOWN  HATH  KNOWN  IT  THIS  HALF  YEAR"     Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

"Taking  her  in  his  arms,  he  shut  her  out  of  the 

room" 68 

"Adams,  with  a  look  full  of  ineffable  contempt,  told 

him  he  deserved  scourging  for  his  pronunciation"     126 

"The  hare  was  no  sooner  on  shore  than  it  seated 

itself  on  its  hinder  legs" 212 

"Joseph  threw  his    head  so  dexterously  into  the 

stomach  of  the  ravisher,  that  he  fell"    ....     280 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  ADVENTURES  OF 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 


AND  HIS  FRIEND  MR  ABRAHAM  ADAMS 


PREFACE 


As  it  is  possible  the  mere  English  reader  may  have  a  differ- 
ent idea  of  romance  with  the  author  of  these  little  volumes, 
and  may  consequently  expect  a  kind  of  entertainment  not  to 
be  found,  nor  which  was  even  intended,  in  the  following 
pages ;  it  may  not  be  improper  to  premise  a  few  words  con- 
cerning this  kind  of  writing,  which  I  do  not  remember  to 
have  seen  hitherto  attempted  in  our  language. 

The  Epic,  as  well  as  the  Drama,  is  divided  into  tragedy  and 
comedy.  Homer,  who  was  the  father  of  this  species  of  poetry, 
gave  us  a  pattern  of  both  these,  though  that  of  the  latter  kind 
is  entirely  lost ;  which  Aristotle  tells  us,  bore  the  same  relation 
to  comedy  which  his  Iliad  bears  to  tragedy.  And  perhaps, 
that  we  have  no  more  instances  of  it  among  the  writers  of 
antiquity,  is  owing  to  the  loss  of  this  great  pattern,  which, 
had  it  survived,  would  have  found  its  imitators  equally  with 
the  other  poems  of  this  great  original. 

And  farther,  as  this  poetry  may  be  tragic  or  comic,  I  will 
not  scruple  to  say  it  may  be  likewise  either  in  verse  or  prose : 
for  though  it  wants  one  particular,  which  the  critic  enumer- 
ates in  the  constituent  parts  of  an  epic  poem,  namely  metre ; 

xv 


PREFACE 

yet,  when  any  kind  of  writing  contains  all  its  other  parts, 
such  as  fable,  action,  characters,  sentiments,  and  diction,  and 
is  deficient  in  metre  only ;  it  seems,  I  think,  reasonable  to 
refer  it  to  the  epic ;  at  least,  as  no  critic  hath  thought  proper 
to  range  it  under  any  other  head,  or  to  assign  it  a  particular 
name  to  itself. 

Thus  the  Telemachus  of  the  archbishop  of  Cambray  ap- 
pears to  me  of  the  epic  kind,  as  well  as  the  Odyssey  of  Ho- 
mer ;  indeed,  it  is  much  fairer  and  more  reasonable  to  give  it 
a  name  common  with  that  species  from  which  it  differs  only 
in  a  single  instance,  than  to  confound  it  with  those  which  it 
resembles  in  no  other.  Such  as  those  voluminous  works, 
commonly  called  romances,  namely,  Clelia,  Cleopatra,  Astrsea, 
Cassandra,  the  Grand  Cyrus,  and  innumerable  others,  which 
contain,  as  I  apprehend,  very  little  instruction  or  entertain- 
ment. 

Now,  a  comic  romance  is  a  comic  epic  poem  in  prose;  dif- 
fering from  comedy,  as  the  serious  epic  from  tragedy :  its 
action  being  more  extended  and  comprehensive ;  containing 
a  much  larger  circle  of  incidents,  and  introducing  a  greater 
variety  of  characters.  It  differs  from  the  serious  romance  in 
its  fable  and  action,  in  this ;  that  as  in  the  one  these  are  grave 
and  solemn,  so  in  the  other  they  are  light  and  ridiculous :  it 
differs  in  its  characters  by  introducing  persons  of  inferior 
rank,  and  consequently,  of  inferior  manners,  whereas  the 
grave  romance  sets  the  highest  before  us :  lastly,  in  its  senti- 
ments and  diction ;  by  preserving  the  ludicrous  instead  of 
the  sublime.  In  the  diction,  I  think,  burlesque  itself  may  be 
sometimes  admitted ;  of  which  many  instances  will  occur  in 
this  work,  as  in  the  description  of  the  battles,  and  some  other 
places,  not  necessary  to  be  pointed  out  to  the  classical  reader, 
.  for  whose  entertainment  those  parodies  or  burlesque  imita- 
tions are  chiefly  calculated. 

xvi 


PREFACE 

But,  though  we  have  sometimes  admitted  this  in  our  dic- 
tion, we  have  carefully  excluded  it  from  our  sentiments  and 
characters ;  for  there  it  is  never  properly  introduced,  unless 
in  writings  of  the  burlesque  kind,  which  this  is  not  intended 
to  be.  Indeed,  no  two  species  of  writing  can  differ  more 
widely  than  the  comic  and  the  burlesque;  for  as  the  latter 
is  ever  the  exhibition  of  what  is  monstrous  and  unnatural, 
and  where  our  delight,  if  we  examine  it,  arises  from  the  sur- 
prising absurdity,  as  in  appropriating  the  manners  of  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  or  e  converso ;  so  in  the  former  we 
should  ever  confine  ourselves  strictly  to  nature,  from  the 
just  imitation  of  which  will  flow  all  the  pleasure  we  can  this 
way  convey  to  a  sensible  reader.  And  perhaps  there  is  one 
reason  why  a  comic  writer  should  of  all  others  be  the  least 
excused  for  deviating  from  nature,  since  it  may  not  be  always 
so  easy  for  a  serious  poet  to  meet  with  the  great  and  the  ad- 
mirable ;  but  life  everywhere  furnishes  an  accurate  observer 
with  the  ridiculous. 

I  have  hinted  this  little  concerning  burlesque,  because  I 
have  often  heard  that  name  given  to  performances  which 
have  been  truly  of  the  comic  kind,  from  the  author's  having 
sometimes  admitted  it  in  his  diction  only ;  which,  as  it  is  the 
dress  of  poetry,  doth,  like  the  dress  of  men,  establish  char- 
acters (the  one  of  the  whole  poem,  and  the  other  of  the  whole 
man),  in  vulgar  opinion,  beyond  any  of  their  greater  excel- 
lences :  but  surely  a  certain  drollery  in  style,  where  charac- 
ters and  sentiments  are  perfectly  natural,  no  more  constitutes 
the  burlesque,  than  an  empty  pomp  and  dignity  of  words, 
where  every  thing  else  is  mean  and  low,  can  entitle  any  per- 
formance to  the  appellation  of  the  true  sublime. 

And  I  apprehend  my  lord  Shaftesbury's  opinion  of  mere 
burlesque  agrees  with  mine,  when  he  asserts  there  is  no  such 
thing  to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  the  ancients.     But  per- 

xvii 


PREFACE 

haps  I  have  less  abhorrence  than  he  professes  for  it;  and 
that,  not  because  I  have  had  some  little  success  on  the  stage 
this  way,  but  rather  as  it  contributes  more  to  exquisite  mirth 
and  laughter  than  any  other;  and  these  are  probably  more 
wholesome  physic  for  the  mind,  and  conduce  better  to  purge 
away  spleen,  melancholy,  and  ill  affections,  than  is  generally 
imagined.  Nay,  I  will  appeal  to  common  observation,  whe- 
ther the  same  companies  are  not  found  more  full  of  good- 
humour  and  benevolence,  after  they  have  been  sweetened  for 
two  or  three  hours  with  entertainments  of  this  kind,  than 
when  soured  by  a  tragedy  or  a  grave  lecture. 

But  to  illustrate  all  this  by  another  science,  in  which,  per- 
haps, we  shall  see  the  distinction  more  clearly  and  plainly, 
let  us  examine  the  works  of  a  comic  history  painter,  with 
those  performances  which  the  Italians  call  caricatura,  where 
we  shall  find  the  true  excellence  of  the  former  to  consist  in 
the  exactest  copying  of  nature ;  insomuch  that  a  judicious 
eye  instantly  rejects  anything  outre,  any  liberty  which  the 
painter  hath  taken  with  the  features  of  that  alma  mater; 
whereas  in  the  caricatura  we  allow  all  licence, — its  aim  jis_to 
exhibit  monsters^not  men ;  and  all  distortions  and  exaggera- 
tions whatever  are  within  its  proper  province. 

Now,  what  caricatura  is  in  painting,  burlesque  is  in  writ- 
ing; and  in  the  same  manner  the  comic  writer  and  painter 
correlate  to  each  other.  And  here  I  shall  observe,  that,  as  in 
the  former  the  painter  seems  to  have  the  advantage ;  so  it  is 
in  the  latter  infinitely  on  the  side  of  the  writer ;  for  the  mon- 
strous is  much  easier  to  paint  than  describe,  and  the  ridicu- 
lous to  describe  than  paint. 

And  though  perhaps  this  latter  species  doth  not  in  either 
science  so  strongly  affect  and  agitate  the  muscles  as  the  other ; 
yet  it  will  be  owned,  I  believe,  that  a  more  rational  and  use- 
ful pleasure  arises  to  us  from  it.     He  who  should  call  the 

xviii 


PREFACE 

ingenious  Hogarth  a  burlesque  painter,  would,  in  my  opinion, 
do  him  very  little  honour ;  for  sure  it  is  much  easier,  much 
less  the  subject  of  admiration,  to  paint  a  man  with  a  nose, 
or  any  other  feature,  of  a  preposterous  size,  or  to  expose  him 
in  some  absurd  or  monstrous  attitude,  than  to  express  the 
affections  of  men  on  canvas.  It  hath  been  thought  a  vast 
commendation  of  a  painter  to  say  his  figures  seem  to  breathe ; 
but  surely  it  is  a  much  greater  and  nobler  applause,  that  they 
appear  to  think. 

But  to  return.  The  ridiculous  only,  as  I  have  before  said, 
falls  within  my  province  in  the  present  work.  Nor  will 
some  explanation  of  this  word  be  thought  impertinent  by  the 
reader,  if  he  considers  how  wonderfully  it  hath  been  mis- 
taken, even  by  writers  who  have  professed  it :  for  to  what  but 
such  a  mistake  can  we  attribute  the  many  attempts  to  ridicule 
the  blackest  villanies,  and,  what  is  yet  worse,  the  most  dread- 
ful calamities?  What  could  exceed  the  absurdity  of  an  au- 
thor, who  should  write  the  comedy  of  Nero,  with  the  merry 
incident  of  ripping  up  his  mother's  belly  ?  or  what  would  give 
a  greater  shock  to  humanity  than  an  attempt  to  expose  the 
miseries  of  poverty  and  distress  to  ridicule?  And  yet  the 
reader  will  not  want  much  learning  to  suggest  such  instances 
to  himself. 

Besides,  it  may  seem  remarkable,  that  Aristotle,  who  is  so 
fond  and  free  of  definitions,  hath  not  thought  proper  to  define 
the  ridiculous.  Indeed,  where  he  tells  us  it  is  proper  to 
comedy,  he  hath  remarked  that  villany  is  not  its  object :  but 
he  hath  not,  as  I  remember,  positively  asserted  what  is.  Nor 
doth  the  Abbe  Bellegarde,  who  hath  written  a  treatise  on  this 
subject,  though  he  shows  us  many  species  of  it,  once  trace  it 
to  its  fountain. 

T4i_e  only_source  of  thejxue  ridiculous  (as  it  appears  to 
me)  is  affectation.    But  though  it  arises  from  one  spring  only, 

xix 


PREFACE 

when  we  consider  the  infinite  streams  into  which  this  one 
branches,  we  shall  presently  cease  to  admire  at  the  copious 
field  it  affords  to  an  observer.  Now,  affectation  proceeds 
from  one  of  these  two  causes,  vanity  or  hypocrisy :  for  as  van- 
ity puts  us  on  affecting  false  characters,  in  order  to  purchase 
applause ;  so  hypocrisy  sets  us  on  an  endeavour  to  avoid  cen- 
sure, by  concealing  our  vices  under  an  appearance  of  their 
opposite  virtues.  And  though  these  two  causes  are  often  con- 
founded (for  there  is  some  difficulty  in  distinguishing  them), 
yet,  as  they  proceed  from  very  different  motives,  so  they  are 
as  clearly  distinct  in  their  operations :  for  indeed,  the  affecta- 
tion which  arises  from  vanity  is  nearer  to  truth  than  the  other, 
as  it  hath  not  that  violent  repugnancy  of  nature  to  struggle 
with,  which  that  of  the  hypocrite  hath.  \  It  may  be  likewise 
J  noted,  that  affectation  doth  not  imply  an  absolute  negation  of 
those  qualities  which  are  affected ;  and,  therefore,  though, 
when  it  proceeds  from  hypocrisy,  it  be  nearly  allied  to  deceit ; 
yet  when  it  comes  from  vanity  only,  it  partakes  of  the  nature 
of  ostentation :  for  instance,  the  affectation  of  liberality  in  a 
vain  man  differs  visibly  from  the  same  affectation  in  the  ava- 
ricious ;  for  though  the  vain  man  is  not  what  he  would  appear, 
or  hath  not  the  virtue  he  affects,  to  the  degree  he  would  be 
thought  to  have  it ;  yet  it  sits  less  awkwardly  on  him  than  on 
the  avaricious  man,  who  is  the  very  reverse  of  what  he  would 
seem  to  be. 

From  the  discovery  of  this  affectation  arises  the  ridiculous, 
which  always  strikes  the  reader  with  surprize  and  pleasure; 
and  that  in  a  higher  and  stronger  degree  when  the  affectation 
arises  from  hypocrisy,  than  when  from  vanity ;  for  to  discover 
any  one  to  be  the  exact  reverse  of  what  he  affects,  is  more 
surprizing,  and  consequently  more  ridiculous,  than  to  find 
him  a  little  deficient  in  the  quality  he  desires  the  reputation 
of.     I  might  observe  that  our  Ben  Jonson,  who  of  all  men 

xx 


PREFACE 

understood  the  ridiculous  the  best,  hath  chiefly  used  the  hypo- 
critical affectation. 

Now,  from  affectation  only,  the  misfortunes  and  calamities 
of  life,  or  the  imperfections  of  nature,  may  become  the  objects 
of  ridicule.  Surely  he  hath  a  very  ill-framed  mind  who  can 
look  on  ugliness,  infirmity,  or  poverty,  as  ridiculous  in  them- 
selves :  nor  do  I  believe  any  man  living,  who  meets  a  dirty 
fellow  riding  through  the  streets  in  a  cart,  is  struck  with  an 
idea  of  the  ridiculous  from  it ;  but  if  he  should  see  the  same 
figure  descend  from  his  coach  and  six,  or  bolt  from  his  chair 
with  his  hat  under  his  arm,  he  would  then  begin  to  laugh, 
and  with  justice.  In  the  same  manner,  were  we  to  enter  a 
poor  house  and  behold  a  wretched  family  shivering  with  cold 
and  languishing  with  hunger,  it  would  not  incline  us  to 
laughter  (at  least  we  must  have  very  diabolical  natures  if  it 
would)  ;  but  should  we  discover  there  a  grate,  instead  of 
coals,  adorned  with  flowers,  empty  plate  or  china  dishes  on 
the  sideboard,  or  any  other  affectation  of  riches  and  finery, 
either  on  their  persons  or  in  their  furniture,  we  might  then 
indeed  be  excused  for  ridiculing  so  fantastical  an  appearance. 
Much  less  are  natural  imperfections  the  object  of  derision; 
but  when  ugliness  aims  at  the  applause  of  beauty,  or  lameness 
endeavours  to  display  agility,  it  is  then  that  these  unfortunate 
circumstances,  which  at  first  moved  our  compassion,  tend  only 
to  raise  our  mirth. 
.   The  poet  carries  this  very  far : — 

None  are  for  being  what  they  are  in  fault, 
But  for  not  being  what  they  would  be  thought. 

Where  if  the  metre  would  suffer  the  word  ridiculous  to  close 
the  first  line,  the  thought  would  be  rather  more  proper. 
Great  vices  are  the  proper  objects  of  our  detestation,  smaller 
faults,  of  our  pity ;  but  affectation  appears  to  me  the  only  true 
source  of  the  ridiculous. 

xxi 


PREFACE 

But  perhaps  it  may  be  objected  to  me,  that  I  have  against 
my  own  rules  introduced  vices,  and  of  a  very  black  kind,  into 
this  work.  To  which  I  shall  answer :  first,  that  it  is  very 
difficult  to  pursue  a  series  of  human  actions,  and  keep  clear 
from  them.  Secondly,  that  the  vices  to  be  found  here,  are 
rather  the  accidental  consequences  of  some  human  frailty  or 
foible,  than  causes  habitually  existing  in  the  mind.  Thirdly, 
that  they  are  never  set  forth  as  the  objects  of  ridicule,  but 
detestation.  Fourthly,  that  they  are  never  the  principal 
figure  at  that  time  on  the  scene:  and,  lastly,  they  never  pro- 
duce the  intended  evil. 

Having  thus  distinguished  Joseph  Andrews  from  the  pro- 
ductions of  romance  writers  on  the  one  hand  and  burlesque 
writers  on  the  other,  and  given  some  few  very  short  hints  (for 
I  intended  no  more)  of  this  species  of  writing,  which  I  have 
affirmed  to  be  hitherto  unattempted  in  our  language ;  I  shall 
leave  to  my  good-natured  reader  to  apply  my  piece  to  my 
observations,  and  will  detain  him  no  longer  than  with  a  word 
concerning  the  characters  in  this  work. 

And  here  I  solemnly  protest  I  have  no  intention  to  vilify 
or  asperse  anyone;  for  though  everything  is  copied  from  the 
book  of  nature,  and  scarce  a  character  or  action  produced 
which  I  have  not  taken  from  my  own  observations  and  ex- 
perience ;  yet  I  have  used  the  utmost  care  to  obscure  the  per- 
sons by  such  different  circumstances,  degrees,  and  colours, 
that  it  will  be  impossible  to  guess  at  them  with  any  degree  of 
certainty;  and  if  it  ever  happens  otherwise,  it  is  only  where 
the  failure  characterized  is  so  minute,  that  it  is  a  foible  only 
which  the  party  himself  may  laugh  at  as  well  as  any  other. 

As  to  the  character  of  Adams,  as  it  is  the  most  glaring  in 
the  whole,  so  I  conceive  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  book  now 
extant.  It  is  designed  a  character  of  perfect  simplicity;  and 
as  the  goodness  of  his  heart  will  recommend  him  to  the  good- 

xxii 


PREFACE 

natured,  so  I  hope  it  will  excuse  me  to  the  gentlemen  of  his 
cloth ;  for  whom,  while  they  are  worthy  of  their  sacred  order, 
no  man  can  possibly  have  a  greater  respect.  They  will  there- 
fore excuse  me,  notwithstanding  the  low  adventures  in  which 
he  is  engaged,  that  I  have  made  him  a  clergyman ;  since  no 
other  office  could  have  given  him  so  many  opportunities  of 
displaying  his  worthy  inclinations. 


xxm 


I 


f 


THE   ADVENTURES    OF 
JOSEPH    ANDREWS 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF 
JOSEPH    ANDREWS. 


BOOK   I. 


CHAPTER   I. 

OF  WRITING  LIVES  IN  GENERAL,  AND  PARTICULARLY  OF  PA- 
MELA; WITH  A  WORD  BY  THE  BYE  OF  COLLEY  CIBBER  AND 
OTHERS. 

IT  is  a  trite  but  true  observation,  that  examples  work  more 
forcibly  on  the  mind  than  precepts :  and  if  this  be  just 
in  what  is  odious  and  blameable,  it  is  more  strongly  so  in  what 
is  amiable  and  praiseworthy.  Here  emulation  most  effectually 
operates  upon  us,  and  inspires  our  imitation  in  an  irresistible 
manner.  A  good  man  therefore  is  a  standing  lesson  to  all 
his  acquaintance,  and  of  far  greater  use  in  that  narrow  circle 
than  a  good  book. 

But  as  it  often  happens  that  the  best  men  are  but  little 
known,  and  consequently  cannot  extend  the  usefulness  of 
their  examples  a  great  way ;  the  writer  may  be  called  in  aid 
to  spread  their  history  farther,  and  to  present  the  amiable 
pictures  to  those  who  have  not  the  happiness  of  knowing  the 
originals ;  and  so,  by  communicating  such  valuable  patterns 
to  the  world,  he  may  perhaps  do  a  more  extensive  service  to 
mankind  than  the  person  whose  life  originally  afforded  the 
pattern. 

In  this  light  I  have  always  regarded  those  biographers 
who  have  recorded  the  actions  of  great  and  worthy  persons 
of  both  sexes.  Not  to  mention  those  ancient  writers  which 
of  late  days  are  little  read,  being  written  in  obsolete,  and  as 
they  are  generally  thought,  unintelligible  languages,  such  as 

3 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

Plutarch,  Nepos,  and  others  which  I  heard  of  in  my  youth ; 
our  own  language  affords  many  of  excellent  use  and  instruc- 
tion, finely  calculated  to  sow  the  seeds  of  virtue  in  youth, 
and  very  easy  to  be  comprehended  by  persons  of  moderate 
capacity.  Such  as  the  history  of  John  the  Great,  who,  by 
his  brave  and  heroic  actions  against  men  of  large  and  athletic 
bodies,  obtained  the  glorious  appellation  of  the  Giant-killer; 
that  of  an  earl  of  Warwick,  whose  Christian  name  was  Guy ; 
the  lives  of  Argalus  and  Parthenia ;  and  above  all,  the  his- 
tory of  those  seven  worthy  personages,  the  Champions  of 
Christendom.  In  all  these  delight  is  mixed  with  instruction, 
and  the  reader  is  almost  as  much  improved  as  entertained. 

But  I  pass  by  these  and  many  others  to  mention  two  books 
lately  published,  which  represent  an  admirable  pattern  of  the 
amiable  in  either  sex.  The  former  of  these,  which  deals  in 
male  virtue,  was  written  by  the  great  person  himself,  who 
lived  the  life  he  hath  recorded,  and  is  by  many  thought  to 
have  lived  such  a  life  only  in  order  to  write  it.  The  other 
is  communicated  to  us  by  an  historian  who  borrows  his  lights, 
as  the  common  method  is,  from  authentic  papers  and  records. 
The  reader,  I  believe,  already  conjectures,  I  mean  the  lives 
of  Mr  Colley  Cibber  and  of  Mrs  Pamela  Andrews.  How 
artfully  doth  the  former,  by  insinuating  that  he  escaped  being 
promoted  to  the  highest  stations  in  Church  and  State,  teach 
us  a  contempt  of  worldly  grandeur!  how  strongly  doth  he 
inculcate  an  absolute  submission  to  our  superiors !  Lastly, 
how  completely  doth  he  arm  us  against  so  uneasy,  so  wretched 
a  passion  as  the  fear  of  shame !  how  clearly  doth  he  expose 
the  emptiness  and  vanity  of  that  phantom,  reputation ! 

What  the  female  readers  are  taught  by  the  memoirs  of 
Mrs  Andrews  is  so  well  set  forth  in  the  excellent  essays  or 
letters  prefixed  to  the  second  and  subsequent  editions  of  that 
work,  that  it  would  be  here  a  needless  repetition.  The  au- 
thentic history  with  which  I  now  present  the  public  is  an  in- 
stance of  the  great  good  that  book  is  likely  to  do,  and  of  the 
prevalence  of  example  which  I  have  just  observed :  since  it 
will  appear  that  it  was  by  keeping  the  excellent  pattern  of 
his  sister's  virtues  before  his  eyes,  that  Mr  Joseph  Andrews 
was  chiefly  enabled  to  preserve  his  purity  in  the  midst  of  such 
great  temptations.     I  shall  only  add  that  this  character  of 

4 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

male  chastity,  though  doubtless  as  desirable  and  becoming 
in  one  part  of  the  human  species  as  in  the  other,  is  almost 
the  only  virtue  which  the  great  apologist  hath  not  given 
himself  for  the  sake  of  giving  the  example  to  his  readers. 


CHAPTER   II. 

OF  MR  JOSEPH  ANDREWS,  HIS  BIRTH,  PARENTAGE,  EDUCATION, 
AND  GREAT  ENDOWMENTS  ',  WITH  A  WORD  OR  TWO  CONCERN- 
ING ANCESTORS. 

MR  JOSEPH  ANDREWS,  the  hero  of  our  ensuing  his- 
tory, was  esteemed  to  be  the  only  son  of  Gaffar  and 
Gammer  Andrews,  and  brother  to  the  illustrious  Pamela, 
whose  virtue  is  at  present  so  famous.  As  to  his  ancestors, 
we  have  searched  with  great  diligence,  but  little  success; 
being  unable  to  trace  them  farther  than  his  great-grandfather, 
who,  as  an  elderly  person  in  the  parish  remembers  to  have 
heard  his  father  say,  was  an  excellent  cudgel-player.  Whe- 
ther he  had  any  ancestors  before  this,  we  must  leave  to  the 
opinion  of  our  curious  reader,  finding  nothing  of  sufficient 
certainty  to  rely  on.  However,  we  cannot  omit  inserting  an 
epitaph  which  an  ingenious  friend  of  ours  hath  communi- 
cated : 

Stay,  traveller,  for  underneath  this  pew 
Lies  fast  asleep  that  merry  man  Andrew : 
When  the  last  day's  great  sun  shall  gild  the  skies, 
Then  he  shall  from  his  tomb  get  up  and  rise. 
Be  merry  while  thou  canst :  for  surely  thou 
Shalt  shortly  be  as  sad  as  he  is  now. 

The  words  are  almost  out  of  the  stone  with  antiquity.  But 
it  is  needless  to  observe  that  Andrew  here  is  writ  without 
an  s,  and  is,  besides,  a  Christian  name.  My  friend  moreover, 
conjectures  this  to  have  been  the  founder  of  that  sect  of 
laughing  philosophers  since  called  Merry-andrews. 

"To  wave,  therefore,  a  circumstance,  which,  though  men- 
tioned in  conformity  to  the  exact  rules  of  biography,  is  not 

5 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

greatly  material,  I  proceed  to  things  of  more  consequence. 
Indeed,  it  is  sufficiently  certain  that  he  had  as  many  ancestors 
as  the  best  man  living,  and,  perhaps,  if  we  look  five  or  six 
hundreds  years  backwards,  might  be  related  to  some  persons 
of  very  great  figure  at  present,  whose  ancestors  within  half 
the  last  century  are  buried  in  as  great  obscurity.  But  sup- 
pose, for  argument's  sake,  we  should  admit  that  he  had  no 
ancestors  at  all,  but  had  sprung  up,  according  to  the  modern 
phrase,  out  of  a  dunghill,  as  the  Athenians  pretended  they 
themselves  did  from  the  earth,  would  not  this  autokopros* 
have  been  justly  entitled  to  all  the  praise  arising  from  his 
own  virtues?  Would  it  not  be  hard  that  a  man  who  hath 
no  ancestors  should  therefore  be  rendered  incapable  of  ac- 
quiring honour ;  when  we  see  so  many  who  have  no  virtues 
enjoying  the  honour  of  their  forefathers?  At  ten  years  old 
(by  which  time  his  education  was  advanced  to  writing  and 
reading)  he  was  bound  an  apprentice,  according  to  the  statute, 
to  Sir  Thomas  Booby,  an  uncle  of  Mr  Booby's  by  the  father's 
side.  Sir  Thomas  having  then  an  estate  in  his  own  hands, 
the  young  Andrews  was  at  first  employed  in  what  in  the 
country  they  call  keeping  birds.  His  office  was  to  perform 
the  part  the  ancients  assigned  to  the  god  Priapus,  which 
deity  the  moderns  call  by  the  name  of  Jack  o'  Lent ;  but  his 
voice  being  so  extremely  musical,  that  it  rather  allured  the 
birds  than  terrified  them,  he  was  soon  transplanted  from  the 
fields  into  the  dog-kennel,  where  he  was  placed  under  the 
huntsman,  and  made  what  the  sportsmen  term  a  whipper-in. 
For  this  place  likewise  the  sweetness  of  his  voice  disqualified 
him ;  the  dogs  preferring  the  melody  of  his  chiding  to  all 
the  alluring  notes  of  the  huntsman ;  who  soon  became  so 
incensed  at  it,  that  he  desired  Sir  Thomas  to  provide  other- 
wise for  him,  and  constantly  laid  every  fault  the  dogs  were 
at  to  the  account  of  the  poor  boy,  who  was  now  transplanted 
to  the  stable.  Here  he  soon  gave  proofs  of  strength  and 
agility  beyond  his  years,  and  constantly  rode  the  most  spirited 
and  vicious  horses  to  water,  with  an  intrepidity  which  sur- 
prised every  one.  While  he  was  in  this  station,  he  rode  sev- 
eral races  for  Sir  Thomas,  and  this  with  such  expertness  and 
success,  that  the  neighbouring  gentlemen  frequently  solicited 
*  In  English,  sprung  from  a  dunghill. 
6 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

the  knight  to  permit  little  Joey  (for  so  he  was  called)  to  ride 
their  matches.  The  best  gamesters,  before  they  laid  their 
money,  always  inquired  which  horse  little  Joey  was  to  ride ; 
and  the  bets  were  rather  proportioned  by  the  rider  than  by  the 
horse  himself ;  especially  after  he  had  scornfully  refused  a 
considerable  bribe  to  play  booty  on  such  an  occasion.  This 
extremely  raised  his  character,  and  so  pleased  the  Lady  Booby, 
that  she  desired  to  have  him  (being  now  seventeen  years  of 
age)  for  her  own  footboy.  Joey  was  now  preferred  from 
the  stable  to  attend  on  his  lady,  to  go  on  her  errands,  stand 
behind  her  chair,  wait  at  her  tea-table,  and  carry  her  prayer- 
book  to  church ;  at  which  place  his  voice  gave  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  distinguishing  himself  by  singing  psalms :  he 
behaved  likewise  in  every  other  respect  so  well  at  Divine  ser- 
vice, that  it  recommended  him  to  the  notice  of  Mr  Abraham 
Adams,  the  curate;  who  took  an  opportunity  one  day,  as  he 
was  drinking  a  cup  of  ale  in  Sir  Thomas's  kitchen,  to  ask 
the  young  man  several  questions  concerning  religion ;  with 
his  answers  to  which  he  was  wonderfully  pleased. 


CHAPTER   III. 

OF    MR    ABRAHAM    ADAMS    THE    CURATE,    MRS    SLIPSLOP    THE 
CHAMBERMAID,  AND  OTHERS. 

MR  ABRAHAM  ADAMS  was  an  excellent  scholar.  He 
was  a  perfect  master  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages ; 
to  which  he  added  a  great  share  of  knowledge  in  the  Oriental 
tongues ;  and  could  read  and  translate  French,  Italian,  and 
Spanish.  He  had  applied  many  years  to  the  most  severe 
study,  and  had  treasured  up  a  fund  of  learning  rarely  to  bq 
met  with  in  a  university.  He  was,  besides,  a  man  of  good 
sense,  good  parts,  and  good  nature ;  but  was  at  the  same  time 
as  entirely  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  this  world  as  an  infant 
just  entered  into  it  could  possibly  be.  As  he  had  never  any 
intention  to  deceive,  so  he  never  suspected  such  a  design  in 
others.  He  was  generous,  friendly,  and  brave  to  an  excess ; 
but  simplicity  was  his  characteristic:  he  did  no  more  than 

7 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mr  Collev  Cibber  apprehend  any  such  passions  as  malice  and 
envy  to  exist  in  mankind ;  which  was  indeed  less  remarkable 
in  a  country  parson  than  in  a  gentleman  who  hath  passed 
his  life  behind  the  scenes, — a  place  which  hath  been  seldom 
thought  the  school  of  innocence,  and  where  a  very  little 
observation  would  have  convinced  the  great  apologist  that 
those  passions  have  a  real  existence  in  the  human  mind. 

His  virtue,  and  his  other  qualifications,  as  they  rendered 
him  equal  to  his  office,  so  they  made  him  an  agreeable  and 
valuable  companion,  and  had  so  much  endeared  and  well 
recommended  him  to  a  bishop,  that  at  the  age  of  fifty  he  was 
provided  with  a  handsome  income  of  twenty-three  pounds 
a-year;  which,  however,  he  could  not  make  any  great  figure 
with,  because  he  lived  in  a  dear  country,  and  was  a  little  in- 
cumbered with  a  wife  and  six  children. 

It  was  this  gentleman,  who  having,  as  I  have  said,  ob- 
served the  singular  devotion  of  young  Andrews,  had  found 
means  to  question  him  concerning  several  particulars ;  as, 
how  many  books  there  were  in  the  New  Testament;  which 
were  they?  how  many  chapters  they  contained?  and  such 
like :  to  all  which  Mr  Adams  privately  said,  he  answered 
much  better  than  Sir  Thomas,  or  two  other  neighbouring  jus- 
tices of  the  peace  could  probably  have  done. 

Mr  Adams  was  wonderfully  solicitous  to  know  at  what 
time,  and  by  what  opportunity,  the  youth  became  acquainted 
with  these  matters :  Joey  told  him  that  he  had  very  early 
learnt  to  read  and  write  by  the  goodness  of  his  father,  who, 
though  he  had  not  interest  enough  to  get  him  into  a  charity 
school,  because  a  cousin  of  his  father's  landlord  did  not  vote 
on  the  right  side  for  a  churchwarden  in  a  borough  town,  yet 
had  been  himself  at  the  expense  of  sixpence  a  week  for  his 
learning.  He  told  him  likewise,  that  ever  since  he  was  in 
Sir  Thomas's  family  he  had  employed  all  his  hours  of  leisure 
in  reading  good  books ;  that  he  had  read  the  Bible,  the  Whole 
Duty  of  Man,  and  Thomas  a  Kempis ;  and  that  as  often  as 
he  could,  without  being  perceived,  he  had  studied  a  great 
book  which  lay  open  in  the  hall  window,  where  he  had  read, 
"as  how  the  devil  carried  away  half  a  church  in  sermon-time, 
without  hurting  one  of  the  congregation ;  and  as  how  a  field 
of  corn  ran  away  down  a  hill  with  all  the  trees  upon  it, 

8 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

and  covered  another  man's  meadow."  This  sufficiently  as- 
sured Mr  Adams  that  the  good  book  meant  could  be  no 
other  than  Baker's  Chronicle. 

The  curate,  surprized  to  find  such  instances  of  industry 
and  application  in  a  young  man  who  had  never  met  with  the 
least  encouragement,  asked  him  if  he  did  not  extremely  regret 
the  want  of  a  liberal  education,  and  the  not  having  been  born 
of  parents  who  might  have  indulged  his  talents  and  desire 
of  knowledge?  To  which  he  answered,  he  hoped  he  had 
profited  somewhat  better  from  the  books  he  had  read  than 
to  lament  his  condition  in  this  world.  That,  for  his  part,  he 
was  perfectly  content  with  the  state  to  which  he  was  called ; 
that  he  should  endeavour  to  improve  his  talent,  which  was  all 
required  of  him ;  but  not  repine  at  his  own  lot,  nor  envy  those 
of  his  betters.  "  Well  said,  my  lad,"  replied  the  curate ;  "  and 
I  wish  some  who  have  read  many  more  good  books,  nay,  and 
some  who  have  written  books  themselves,  had  profited  so 
much  by  them." 

Adams  had  no  nearer  access  to  Sir  Thomas  or  my  lady  than 
through  the  waiting-gentlewoman  ;  for  Sir  Thomas  was  too 
apt  to  estimate  men  merely  by  their  dress  or  fortune ;  and 
my  lady  was  a  woman  of  gaiety,  who  had  been  blessed  with 
a  town  education,  and  never  spoke  of  any  of  her  country 
neighbours  by  any  other  appellation  than  that  of  the  brutes. 
They  both  regarded  the  curate  as  a  kind  of  domestic  only, 
belonging  to  the  parson  of  the  parish,  who  was  at  this  time 
at  variance  with  the  knight ;  for  the  parson  had  for  many 
years  lived  in  a  constant  state  of  civil  war,  or,  which  is  per- 
haps as  bad,  of  civil  law,  with  Sir  Thomas  himself  and  the 
tenants  of  his  manor.  The  foundation  of  this  quarrel  was  a 
modus,  by  setting  which  aside  an  advantage  of  several  shil- 
lings per  annum  would  have  accrued  to  the  rector;  but  he 
had  not  yet  been  able  to  accomplish  his  purpose,  and  had 
reaped  hitherto  nothing  better  from  the  suits  than  the  plea- 
sure (which  he  used  indeed  frequently  to  say  was  no  small 
one)  of  reflecting  that  he  had  utterly  undone  many  of  the 
poor  tenants,  though  he  had  at  the  same  time  greatly  im- 
poverished himself. 

Mrs  Slipslop,  the  waiting-gentlewoman,  being  herself  the 
daughter  of  a  curate,  preserved  some  respect  for  Adams :  she 

9 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

professed  great  regard  for  his  learning,  and  would  frequently 
dispute  with  him  on  points  of  theology ;  but  always  insisted 
on  a  deference  to  be  paid  to  her  understanding,  as  she  had 
been  frequently  at  London,  and  knew  more  of  the  world 
than  a  country  parson  could  pretend  to. 

She  had  in  these  disputes  a  particular  advantage  over 
Adams :  for  she  was  a  mighty  affector  of  hard  words,  which 
she  used  in  such  a  manner  that  the  parson,  who  durst  not 
offend  her  by  calling  her  words  in  question,  was  frequently 
at  some  loss  to  guess  her  meaning,  and  would  have  been 
much  less  puzzled  by  an  Arabian  manuscript. 

Adams  therefore  took  an  opportunity  one  day,  after  a 
pretty  long  discourse  with  her  on  the  essence  (or,  as  she 
pleased  to  term  it,  the  incence)  of  matter,  to  mention  the 
case  of  young  Andrews;  desiring  her  to  recommend  him  to 
her  lady  as  a  youth  very  susceptible  of  learning,  and  one 
whose  instruction  in  Latin  he  would  himself  undertake;  by 
which  means  he  might  be  qualified  for  a  higher  station  than 
that  of  a  footman ;  and  added,  she  knew  it  was  in  his  mas- 
ter's power  easily  to  provide  for  him  in  a  better  manner.  He 
therefore  desired  that  the  boy  might  be  left  behind  under  his 
care. 

"La!  Mr  Adams,"  said  Mrs  Slipslop,  "do  you  think  my 
lady  will  suffer  any  preambles  about  any  such  matter?  She 
is  going  to  London  very  concisely,  and  I  am  confidous  would 
not  leave  Joey  behind  her  on  any  account;  for  he  is  one  of 
the  genteelest  young  fellows  you  may  see  in  a  summer's  day ; 
and  I  am  confidous  she  would  as  soon  think  of  parting  with 
a  pair  of  her  grey  mares,  for  she  values  herself  as  much  on 
one  as  the  other."  Adams  would  have  interrupted,  but  she 
proceeded :  "And  why  is  Latin  more  necessitous  for  a  foot- 
man than  a  gentleman?  It  is  very  proper  that  you  clergy- 
men must  learn  it,  because  you  can't  preach  without  it:  but 
I  haye  heard  gentlemen  say  in  London,  that  it  is  fit  for  no- 
body else.  I  am  confidous  my  lady  would  be  angry  with  me 
for  mentioning  it ;  and  I  shall  draw  myself  into  no  such 
delemy."  At  which  words  her  lady's  bell  rung,  and  Mr 
Adams  was  forced  to  retire ;  nor  could  he  gain  a  second 
opportunity  with  her  before  their  London  journey,  which  hap- 
pened a  few  days  afterwards.     However,  Andrews  behaved 

10 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

very  thankfully  and  gratefully  to  him  for  his  intended  kind- 
ness, which  he  told  him  he  never  would  forget,  and  at  the 
same  time  received  from  the  good  man  many  admonitions 
concerning  the  regulation  of  his  future  conduct,  and  his  per- 
severance in  innocence  and  industry. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  AFTER  THEIR  JOURNEY  TO  LONDON. 

NO  sooner  was  young  Andrews  arrived  at  London  than  he 
began  to  scrape  an  acquaintance  with  his  party-coloured 
brethren,  who  endeavoured  to  make  him  despise  his  former 
course  of  life.  His  hair  was  cut  after  the  newest  fashion, 
and  became  his  chief  care ;  he  went  abroad  with  it  all  the 
morning  in  papers,  and  drest  it  out  in  the  afternoon.  They 
could  not  however  teach  him  to  game,  swear,  drink,  nor  any 
other  genteel  vice  the  town  abounded  with.  He  applied  most 
of  his  leisure  hours  to  music,  in  which  he  greatly  improved 
himself ;  and  became  so  perfect  a  connoisseur  in  that  art,  that 
he  led  the  opinion  of  all  the  other  footmen  at  an  opera,  and 
they  never  condemned  or  applauded  a  single  song  contrary 
to  his  approbation  or  dislike.  He  was  a  little  too  forward 
in  riots  at  the  playhouses  and  assemblies ;  and  when  he 
attended  his  lady  at  church  (which  was  but  seldom)  he  be- 
haved with  less  seeming  devotion  than  formerly :  however, 
if  he  was  outwardly  a  pretty  fellow,  his  morals  remained 
entirely  uncorrupted,  though  he  was  at  the  same  time  smarter 
and  genteeler  than  any  of  the  beaux  in  town,  either  in  or  out 
of  livery. 

His  lady,  who  had  often  said  of  him  that  Joey  was  the 
handsomest  and  genteelest  footman  in  the  kingdom,  but  that 
it  was  pity  he  wanted  spirit,  began  now  to  find  that  fault  no 
longer ;  on  the  contrary,  she  was  frequently  heard  to  cry  out : 
"Aye,  there  is  some  life  in  this  fellow."  She  plainly  saw  the 
effects  which  the  town  air  hath  on  the  soberest  constitutions. 
She  would  now  walk  out  with  him  into  Hyde  Park  in  a 
morning,  and  when  tired,  which  happened  almost  every  min- 

ii 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

ute,  would  lean  on  his  arm,  and  converse  with  him  in  great 
familiarity.  Whenever  she  stept  out  of  her  coach,  she  would 
take  him  by  the  hand,  and  sometimes,  for  fear  of  stumbling, 
press  it  very  hard;  she  admitted  him  to  deliver  messages  at 
her  bedside  in  a  morning,  leered  at  him  at  table,  and  in- 
dulged him  in  all  those  innocent  freedoms  which  women  of 
figure  may  permit  without  the  least  sully  of  their  virtue. 

But  though  their  virtue  remains  unsullied,  yet  now  and 
then  some  small  arrows  will  glance  on  the  shadow  of  it,  their 
reputation ;  and  so  it  fell  out  to  Lady  Booby,  who  happened 
to  be  walking  arm-in-arm  with  Joey  one  morning  in  Hyde 
Park,  when  Lady  Tittle  and  Lady  Tattle  came  accidentally  by 
in  their  coach.  "Bless  me,"  says  Lady  Tittle,  "can  I  believe 
my  eyes?  Is  that  Lady  Booby?" — "Surely,"  says  Tattle. 
"But  what  makes  you  surprised?" — "Why,  is  not  that  her 
footman  ? "  replied  Tittle.  At  which  Tattle  laughed,  and 
cried,  "An  old  business,  I  assure  you  :  is  it  possible  you  should 
not  have  heard  it?  The  whole  town  hath  known  it  this  half- 
year."  The  consequence  of  this  interview  was  a  whisper 
through  a  hundred  visits,  which  were  separately  performed 
by  the  two  ladies*  the  same  afternoon,  and  might  have  had 
a  mischievous  effect,  had  it  not  been  stopt  by  two  fresh  repu- 
tations which  were  published  the  day  afterwards,  and  en- 
grossed the  whole  talk  of  the  town. 

But,  whatever  opinion  or  suspicion  the  scandalous  inclina- 
tion of  defamers  might  entertain  of  Lady  Booby's  innocent 
freedoms,  it  is  certain  they  made  no  impression  on  young 
Andrews,  who  never  offered  to  encroach  beyond  the  liberties 
which  his  lady  allowed  him, — a  behaviour  which  she  im- 
puted to  the  violent  respect  he  preserved  for  her,  and  which 
served  only  to  heighten  a  something  she  began  to  conceive, 
and  which  the  next  chapter  will  open  a  little  farther. 

*  It  may  seem  an  absurdity  that  Tattle  should  visit,  as  she  actually 
did,  to  spread  a  known  scandal :  but  the  reader  may  reconcile  this  by 
supposing,  with  me,  that  notwithstanding  what  she  says,  this  was  her 
first  acquaintance  with  it. 


12 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DEATH  OF  SIR  THOMAS  BOOBY,  WITH  THE  AFFECTIONATE 
AND  MOURNFUL  BEHAVIOUR  OF  HIS  WIDOW,  AND  THE  GREAT 
PURITY  OF  JOSEPH  ANDREWS. 

AT  this  time  an  accident  happened  which  put  a  stop  to 
jljL  those  agreeable  walks,  which  probably  would  have  soon 
puffed  up  the  cheeks  of  Fame  and  caused  her  to  blow  her 
brazen  trumpet  through  the  town;  and  this  was  no  other 
than  the  death  of  Sir  Thomas  Booby,  who,  departing  this  life, 
left  his  disconsolate  lady  confined  to  her  house,  as  closely  as 
if  she  herself  had  been  attacked  by  some  violent  disease.  Dur- 
ing the  first  six  days  the  poor  lady  admitted  none  but  Mrs 
Slipslop,  and  three  female  friends,  who  made  a  party  at  cards  : 
but  on  the  seventh  she  ordered  Joey,  whom,  for  a  good  reason, 
we  shall  hereafter  call  Joseph,  to  bring  up  her  tea-kettle. 
The  lady  being  in  bed,  called  Joseph  to  her,  bade  him  sit 
down,  and,  having  accidentally  laid  her  hand  on  his,  she  asked 
him  if  he  had  ever  been  in  love.  Joseph  answered,  with 
some  confusion,  it  was  time  enough  for  one  so  young  as 
himself  to  think  on  such  things.  "As  young  as  you  are,"  re- 
plied the  lady,  "  I  am  convinced  you  are  no  stranger  to  that 
passion.  Come,  Joey,"  says  she,  "  tell  me  truly,  who  is  the 
happy  girl  whose  eyes  have  made  a  conquest  of  you  ?  "  Jo- 
seph returned,  that  all  the  women  he  had  ever  seen  were 
equally  indifferent  to  him.  "  O  then,"  said  the  lady,  "  you  are 
a  general  lover.  Indeed,  you  handsome  fellows,  like  hand- 
some women,  are  very  long  and  difficult  in  fixing ;  but  yet 
you  shall  never  persuade  me  that  your  heart  is  so  insusceptible 
of  affection ;  I  rather  impute  what  you  say  to  your  secrecy, 
a  very  commendable  quality,  and  what  I  am  far  from  being 
angry  with  you  for.  Nothing  can  be  more  unworthy  in  a 
young  man,  than  to  betray  any  intimacies  with  the  ladies." 
"  Ladies !  madam,"  said  Joseph,  "  I  am  sure  I  never  had  the 
impudence  to  think  of  any  that  deserve  that  name."  "  Don't 
pretend  to  too  much  modesty,"  said  she,  "  for  that  some- 
times may  be  impertinent :  but  pray  answer  me  this  question. 
Suppose  a  lady  should  happen  to  like  you ;  suppose  she  should 

J3 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

prefer  you  to  all  your  sex,  and  admit  you  to  the  same  famil- 
iarities as  you  might  have  hoped  for  if  you  had  been  born  her 
equal,  are  you  certain  that  no  vanity  could  tempt  you  to  dis- 
cover her  ?  Answer  me  honestly,  Joseph ;  have  you  so  much 
more  sense  and  so  much  more  virtue  than  you  handsome  young 
fellows  generally  have,  who  make  no  scruple  of  sacrificing  our 
dear  reputation  to  your  pride,  without  considering  the  great 
obligation  we  lay  on  you  by  our  condescension  and  confidence  ? 
Can  you  keep  a  secret,  my  Joey  ?  "  "  Madam,"  says  he,  "  I 
hope  your  ladyship  can't  tax  me  with  ever  betraying  the  secrets 
of  the  family  ;  and  I  hope,  if  you  was  to  turn  me  away,  I  might 
have  that  character  of  you."  "  I  don't  intend  to  turn  you 
away,  Joey,"  said  she,  and  sighed ;  "  I  am  afraid  it  is  not  in 
my  power."  She  then  raised  herself  a  little  in  her  bed,  and 
discovered  one  of  the  whitest  necks  that  ever  was  seen;  at 
which  Joseph  blushed.  "  La !  "  says  she,  in  an  affected  sur- 
prize, "  what  am  I  doing  ?  I  have  trusted  myself  with  a  man 
alone,  naked  in  bed ;  suppose  you  should  have  any  wicked 
intentions  upon  my  honour,  how  should  I  defend  myself?" 
Joseph  protested  that  he  never  had  the  least  evil  design 
against  her.  '''  No,"  says  she,  "  perhaps  you  may  not  call  your 
designs  wicked ;  and  perhaps  they  are  not  so." — He  swore 
they  were  not.  "  You  misunderstand  me,"  says  she ;  "  I  mean 
if  they  were  against  my  honour,  they  may  not  be  wicked ; 
but  the  world  calls  them  so.  But  then,  say  you,  the  world 
will  never  know  anything  of  the  matter ;  yet  would  not  that 
be  trusting  to  your  secrecy  ?  Must  not  my  reputation  be  then 
in  your  power  ?  Would  you  not  then  be  my  master  ?  "  Jo- 
seph begged  her  ladyship  to  be  comforted ;  for  that  he  would 
never  imagine  the  least  wicked  thing  against  her,  and  that 
he  had  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than  give  her  any  rea- 
son to  suspect  him.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  "  I  must  have  reason 
to  suspect  you.  Are  you  not  a  man?  and,  without  vanity,  I 
may  pretend  to  some  charms.  But  perhaps  you  may  fear  I 
should  prosecute  you  ;  indeed  I  hope  you  do ;  and  yet  Heaven 
knows  I  should  never  have  the  confidence  to  appear  before 
a  court  of  justice ;  and  you  know,  Joey,  I  am  of  a  forgiving 
temper.  Tell  me,  Joey,  don't  you  think  I  should  forgive 
you  ?  " — "  Indeed,  madam,"  says  Joseph,  "  I  will  never  do 
anything  to   disoblige  your  ladyship."     "  How,"   says   she, 

14 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

"  do  you  think  it  would  not  disoblige  me  then?  Do  you  think 
I  would  willingly  suffer  you?" — "I  don't  understand  you, 
madam,"  says  Joseph. — "  Don't  you  ?  "  said  she,  "  then  you 
are  either  a  fool,  or  pretend  to  be  so ;  I  find  I  was  mistaken  in 
you.  So  get  you  down-stairs,  and  never  let  me  see  your  face 
again ;  your  pretended  innocence  cannot  impose  on  me." — 
"  Madam,"  said  Joseph,  "  I  would  not  have  your  ladyship 
think  any  evil  of  me.  I  have  always  endeavoured  to  be  a 
dutiful  servant  both  to  you  and  my  master." — "  O  thou 
villain !  "  answered  my  lady ;  "  why  didst  thou  mention  the 
name  of  that  dear  man,  unless  to  torment  me,  to  bring  his 
precious  memory  to  my  mind?"  (and  then  she  burst  into  a 
fit  of  tears.)  "Get  thee  from  my  sight!  I  shall  never  en- 
dure thee  more."  At  which  words  she  turned  away  from 
him;  and  Joseph  retreated  from  the  room  in  a  most  dis- 
consolate condition,  and  writ  that  letter  which  the  reader  will 
find  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW  JOSEPH  ANDREWS  WRIT  A  LETTER  TO  HIS  SISTER  PAMELA. 

'  To  Mrs  Pamela  Andrezvs,  living  with  Squire  Booby. 

"  Dear  Sister, — Since  I  received  your  letter  of  your  good 
lady's  death,  we  have  had  a  misfortune  of  the  same  kind  in 
our  family.  My  worthy  master  Sir  Thomas  died  about  four 
days  ago ;  and,  what  is  worse,  my  poor  lady  is  certainly  gone 
distracted.  None  of  the  servants  expected  her  to  take  it  so 
to  heart,  because  they  quarrelled  almost  every  day  of  their 
lives:  but  no  more  of  that,  because  you  know,  Pamela,  I 
never  loved  to  tell  the  secrets  of  my  master's  family;  but  to 
be  sure  you  must  have  known  they  never  loved  one  another; 
and  I  have  heard  her  ladyship  wish  his  honour  dead  above  a 
thousand  times;  but  nobody  knows  what  it  is  to  lose  a 
friend  till  they  have  lost  him. 

"  Don't  tell  anybody  what  I  write,  because  I  should  not 
care  to  have  folks  say  I  discover  what  passes  in  our  family ; 

15 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

but  if  it  had  not  been  so  great  a  lady,  I  should  have  thought 
she  had  had  a  mind  to  me.  Dear  Pamela,  don't  tell  any- 
body ;  but  she  ordered  me  to  sit  down  by  her  bed-side,  when 
she  was  naked  in  bed ;  and  she  held  my  hand,  and  talked 
exactly  as  a  lady  does  to  her  sweetheart  in  a  stage-play, 
which  I  have  seen  in  Covent  Garden,  while  she  wanted  him 
to  be  no  better  than  he  should  be. 

"  If  madam  be  mad,  I  shall  not  care  for  staying  long  in  the 
family ;  so  I  heartily  wish  you  could  get  me  a  place,  either 
at  the  squire's,  or  some  other  neighbouring  gentleman's,  un- 
less it  be  true  that  you  are  going  to  be  married  to  parson 
Williams,  as  folks  talk,  and  then  I  should  be  very  willing  to 
be  his  clerk;  for  which  you  know  I  am  qualified,  being  able 
to  read  and  to  set  a  psalm. 

"  I  fancy  I  shall  be  discharged  very  soon ;  and  the  moment 
I  am,  unless  I  hear  from  you,  I  shall  return  to  my  old  mas- 
ter's country-seat,  if  it  be  only  to  see  parson  Adams,  who  is 
the  best  man  in  the  world.  London  is  a  bad  place,  and  there 
is  so  little  good  fellowship,  that  the  next-door  neighbours 
don't  know  one  another.  Pray  give  my  service  to  all  friends 
that  inquire  for  me.    So  I  rest 

"Your  loving  brother, 

"  Joseph  Andrews." 

As  soon  as  Joseph  had  sealed  and  directed  this  letter  he 
walked  down-stairs,  where  he  met  Mrs  Slipslop,  with  whom 
we  shall  take  this  opportunity  to  bring  the  reader  a  little  bet- 
ter acquainted.  She  was  a  maiden  gentlewoman  of  about 
forty-five  years  of  age,  who,  having  made  a  small  slip  in  her 
youth,  had  continued  a  good  maid  ever  since.  She  was  not 
at  this  time  remarkably  handsome ;  being  very  short,  and 
rather  too  corpulent  in  body,  and  somewhat  red,  with  the 
addition  of  pimples  in  the  face.  Her  nose  was  likewise  rather 
too  large,  and  her  eyes  too  little ;  nor  did  she  resemble  a  cow 
so  much  in  her  breath  as  in  two  brown  globes  which  she 
carried  before  her ;  one  of  her  legs  was  also  a  little  shorter 
than  the  other,  which  occasioned  her  to  limp  as  she  walked. 
This  fair  creature  had  long  cast  the  eyes  of  affection  on  Jo- 
seph, in  which  she  had  not  met  with  quite  so  good  success  as 
she  probably  wished,  though,  besides  the  allurements  of  her 

16 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

native  charms,  she  had  given  him  tea,  sweetmeats,  wine,  and 
many  other  delicacies,  of  which,  by  keeping  the  keys,  she  had 
the  absolute  command.  Joseph,  however,  had  not  returned 
the  least  gratitude  to  all  these  favours,  not  even  so  much  as 
a  kiss ;  though  I  would  not  insinuate  she  was  so  easily  to  be 
satisfied ;  for  surely  then  he  would  have  been  highly  blameable 
The  truth  is,  she  was  arrived  at  an  age  when  she  thought  she 
might  indulge  herself  in  any  liberties  with  a  man,  without  the 
danger  of  bringing  a  third  person  into  the  world  to  betray 
them.  She  imagined  that  by  so  long  a  self-denial  she  had  not 
only  made  amends  for  the  small  slip  of  her  youth  above 
hinted  at,  but  had  likewise  laid  up  a  quantity  of  merit  to 
excuse  any  future  failings.  In  a  word,  she  resolved  to  give 
a  loose  to  her  amorous  inclinations,  and  to  pay  off  the  debt  of 
pleasure  which  she  found  she  owed  herself,  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible. 

With  these  charms  of  person,  and  in  this  disposition  of 
mind,  she  encountered  poor  Joseph  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  drink  a  glass  of  something 
good  this  morning.  Joseph,  whose  spirits  were  not  a  little 
cast  down,  very  readily  and  thankfully  accepted  the  offer; 
and  together  they  went  into  a  closet,  where,  having  delivered 
him  a  full  glass  of  ratafia,  and  desired  him  to  sit  down,  Mrs 
Slipslop  thus  began  : — 

"  Sure  nothing  can  be  a  more  simple  contract  in  a  woman 
than  to  place  her  affections  on  a  boy.  If  I  had  ever  thought 
it  would  have  been  my  fate,  I  should  have  wished  to  die  a 
thousand  deaths  rather  than  live  to  see  that  day.  If  we 
like  a  man,  the  lightest  hint  sophisticates.  Whereas  a  boy 
proposes  upon  us  to  break  through  all  the  regulations  of 
modesty,  before  we  can  make  any  oppression  upon  him." 
Joseph,  who  did  not  understand  a  word  she  said,  answered, 
"  Yes,  madam." — "  Yes,  madam !  "  replied  Mrs  Slipslop  with 
some  warmth,  "Do  you  intend  to  insult  my  passion?  Is  it 
not  enough,  ungrateful  as  you  are,  to  make  no  return  to  all 
the  favours  I  have  done  you;  but  you  must  treat  me  with 
ironing?  Barbarous  monster!  how  have  I  deserved  that  my 
passion  should  be  resulted  and  treated  with  ironing?  "  "  Ma- 
dam," answered  Joseph,  "  I  don't  understand  your  hard 
words ;  but  I  am  certain  you  have  no  occasion  to  call  me  un- 
2  I7 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

grateful,  for,  so  far  from  intending  you  any  wrong,  I  have 
always  loved  you  as  well  as  if  you  had  been  my  own  mother." 
'  How,  sirrah  ?  "  says  Airs  Slipslop  in  a  rage ;  "  your  own 
mother?  Do  you  assinuate  that  I  am  old  enough  to  be  your 
mother?  I  don't  know  what  a  stripling  may  think,  but  I  be- 
lieve a  man  would  refer  me  to  any  green-sickness  silly  girl 
whatsomdever :  but  I  ought  to  despise  you  rather  than  be 
angry  with  you,  for  referring  the  conversation  of  girls  to  that 
of  a  woman  of  sense." — "  Madam,"  says  Joseph,  "  I  am  sure 
I  have  always  valued  the  honour  you  did  me  by  your  conver- 
sation, for  I  know  you  are  a  woman  of  learning." — "Yes, 
but,  Joseph,"  said  she,  a  little  softened  by  the  compliment 
to  her  learning,  "  If  you  had  a  value  for  me,  you  certainly 
would  have  found  some  method  of  showing  it  me ;  for  I  am 
convicted  you  must  see  the  value  I  have  for  you.  Yes,  Jo- 
seph, my  eyes,  whether  I  would  or  no,  must  have  declared 
a  passion  I  cannot  conquer. — Oh  !  Joseph  !  " 

As  when  a  hungry  tigress,  who  long  has  traversed  the 
woods  in  fruitless  search,  sees  within  the  reach  of  her  claws 
a  lamb,  she  prepares  to  leap  on  her  prey ;  or  as  a  voracious 
pike  of  immense  size,  surveys  through  the  liquid  element  a 
roach  or  gudgeon,  which  cannot  escape  her  jaws,  opens  them 
wide  to  swallow  the  little  fish ;  so  did  Mrs  Slipslop  prepare 
to  lay  her  violent  amorous  hands  on  the  poor  Joseph,  when 
luckily  her  mistress's  bell  rung,  and  delivered  the  intended 
martyr  from  her  clutches.  She  was  obliged  to  leave  him 
abruptly,  and  to  defer  the  execution  of  her  purpose  till  some 
other  time.  We  shall  therefore  return  to  the  Lady  Booby, 
and  give  our  reader  some  account  of  her  behaviour,  after  she 
was  left  by  Joseph  in  a  temper  of  mind  not  greatly  different 
from  that  of  the  inflamed  Slipslop. 


t8 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 


CHAPTER   VII. 

SAYINGS  OF  WISE  MEN.  A  DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  THE  LADY  AND 
HER  MAID;  AND  A  PANEGYRIC,  OR  RATHER  SATIRE,  ON  THE 
PASSION  OF  LOVE,  IN  THE  SUBLIME  STYLE. 

IT  is  the  observation  of  some  ancient  sage,  whose  name  I 
have  forgot,  that  passions  operate  differently  on  the  hu- 
man mind,  as  diseases  on  the  body,  in  proportion  to  the 
strength  or  weakness,  soundness  or  rottenness,  of  the  one  and 
the  other. 

We  hope,  therefore,  a  judicious  reader  will  give  himself 
some  pains  to  observe,  what  we  have  so  greatly  laboured  to 
describe,  the  different  operations  of  this  passion  of  love  in 
the  gentle  and  cultivated  mind  of  the  Lady  Booby,  from 
those  which  it  effected  in  the  less  polished  and  coarser  dis- 
position of  Mrs  Slipslop. 

Another  philosopher,  whose  name  also  at  present  escapes 
my  memory,  hath  somewhere  said,  that  resolutions  taken  in 
the  absence  of  the  beloved  object  are  very  apt  to  vanish  in 
its  presence ;  on  both  which  wise  sayings  the  following  chap- 
ter may  serve  as  a  comment. 

No  sooner  had  Joseph  left  the  room  in  the  manner  we 
have  before  related  than  the  lady,  enraged  at  her  disappoint- 
ment, began  to  reflect  with  severity  on  her  conduct.  Her 
love  was  now  changed  to  disdain,  which  pride  assisted  to 
torment  her.  She  despised  herself  for  the  meanness  of  her 
passion,  and  Joseph  for  its  ill-success.  However,  she  had 
now  got  the  better  of  it  in  her  own  opinion,  and  determined 
immediately  to  dismiss  the  object.  After  much  tossing  and 
turning  in  her  bed,  and  many  soliloquies,  which  if  we  had 
no  better  matter  for  our  reader  we  would  give  him,  she  at 
last  rung  the  bell  as  above  mentioned,  and  was  presently 
attended  by  Mrs  Slipslop,  who  was  not  much  better  pleased 
with  Joseph  than  the  lady  herself. 

"  Slipslop,"  said  Lady  Booby,  "  when  did  you  see  Joseph?  " 
The  poor  woman  was  so  surprised  at  the  unexpected  sound 
of  his  name  at  so  critical  a  time,  that  she  had  the  greatest 
difficulty  to  conceal  the  confusion  she  was  under  from  her 

19 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

mistress ;  whom  she  answered,  nevertheless,  with  pretty  good 
confidence,  though  not  entirely  void  of  fear  of  suspicion, 
that  she  had  not  seen  him  that  morning.  "  I  am  afraid,"  said 
Lady  Booby,  "  he  is  a  wild  young  fellow." — "  That  he  is,"  said 
Slipslop,  "  and  a  wicked  one  too.  To  my  knowledge  he 
games,  drinks,  swears,  and  fights  eternally ;  besides,  he  is 
horribly  indicted  to  wenching." — "  Ay !  "  said  the  lady,  "  I 
never  heard  that  of  him." — "  O  madam !  "  answered  the  other, 
"  he  is  so  lewd  a  rascal,  that  if  your  ladyship  keeps  him 
much  longer,  you  will  not  have  one  virgin  in  your  house 
except  myself.  And  yet  I  can't  conceive  what  the  wenches 
see  in  him,  to  be  so  foolishly  fond  as  they  are ;  in  my  eyes, 
he  is  as  ugly  a  scarecrow  as  I  ever  beheld." — "  Nay,"  said  the 
lady,  "  the  boy  is  well  enough." — "  La  !  ma'am,"  cries  Slipslop, 
'  I  think  him  the  ragmaticallest  fellow  in  the  family." — 
"  Sure,  Slipslop,"  says  she,  "  you  are  mistaken :  but  which  of 
the  women  do  you  most  suspect?  " — "  Madam,"  says  Slipslop, 
"  there  is  Betty  the  chamber-maid,  I  am  almost  convicted,  is 
with  child  by  him." — "  Ay !  "  says  the  lady,  "  then  pray  pay 
her  her  wages  instantly.  I  will  keep  no  such  sluts  in  my 
family.  And  as  for  Joseph,  you  may  discard  him  too." — 
"Would  your  ladyship  have  him  paid  off  immediately?" 
cries  Slipslop,  "  for  perhaps,  when  Betty  is  gone  he  may 
mend :  and  really  the  boy  is  a  good  servant,  and  a  strong 
healthy  luscious  boy  enough." — "  This  morning,"  answered 
the  lady  with  some  vehemence.  "  I  wish,  madam,"  cries  Slip- 
slop, "  your  ladyship  would  be  so  good  as  to  try  him  a  little 
longer." — "  I  will  not  have  my  commands  disputed,"  said  the 
lady ;  "  sure  you  are  not  fond  of  him  yourself." — "  I,  ma- 
dam!" cries  Slipslop,  reddening,  if  not  blushing,  "I  should 
be  sorry  to  think  your  ladyship  had  any  reason  to  respect  me 
of  fondness  for  a  fellow;  and  if  it  be  your  pleasure,  I  shall 
fulfil  it  with  as  much  reluctance  as  possible." — "  As  little,  I 
suppose  you  mean,"  said  the  lady ;  "  and  so  about  it  instantly." 
Mrs  Slipslop  went  out,  and  the  lady  had  scarce  taken  two 
turns  before  she  fell  to  knocking  and  ringing  with  great  vio- 
lence. Slipslop,  who  did  not  travel  post  haste,  soon  returned, 
and  was  countermanded  as  to  Joseph,  but  ordered  to  send 
Betty  about  her  business  without  delay.  She  went  out  a 
second  time  with  much  greater  alacrity  than  before;  when 

20 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

the  lady  began  immediately  to  accuse  herself  of  want  of  reso- 
lution, and  to  apprehend  the  return  of  her  affection,  with 
its  pernicious  consequences ;  she  therefore  applied  herself 
again  to  the  bell,  and  resummoned  Mrs  Slipslop  into  her 
presence ;  who  again  returned,  and  was  told  by  her  mistress 
that  she  had  considered  better  of  the  matter,  and  was  abso- 
lutely resolved  to  turn  away  Joseph ;  which  she  ordered  her 
to  do  immediately.  Slipslop,  who  knew  the  violence  of  her 
lady's  temper,  and  would  not  venture  her  place  for  any 
Adonis  or  Hercules  in  the  universe,  left  her  a  third  time ; 
which  she  had  no  sooner  done,  than  the  little  god  Cupid, 
fearing  he  had  not  yet  done  the  lady's  business,  took  a  fresh 
arrow  with  the  sharpest  point  out  of  his  quiver,  and  shot  it 
directly  into  her  heart ;  in  other  and  plainer  language,  the 
lady's  passion  got  the  better  of  her  reason.  She  called  back 
Slipslop  once  more,  and  told  her  she  had  resolved  to  see  the 
boy,  and  examine  him  herself;  therefore  bid  her  send  him 
up.  This  wavering  in  her  mistress's  temper  probably  put 
something  into  the  waiting-gentlewoman's  head  not  necessary 
to  mention  to  the  sagacious  reader. 

Lady  Booby  was  going  to  call  her  back  again,  but  could 
not  prevail  with  herself.  The  next  consideration  therefore 
was,  how  she  should  behave  to  Joseph  when  he  came  in. 
She  resolved  to  preserve  all  the  dignity  of  the  woman  of 
fashion  to  her  servant,  and  to  indulge  herself  in  this  last 
view  of  Joseph  (for  that  she  was  most  certainly  resolved  it 
should  be)  at  his  own  expense,  by  first  insulting  and  then 
discarding  him. 

O  Love,  what  monstrous  tricks  dost  thou  play  with  thy 
votaries  of  both  sexes!  How  dost  thou  deceive  them,  and 
make  them  deceive  themselves !  Their  follies  are  thy  de- 
light !  Their  sighs  make  thee  laugh,  and  their  pangs  are  thy 
merriment ! 

Not  the  great  Rich,  who  turns  men  into  monkeys,  wheel- 
barrows, and  whatever  else  best  humours  his  fancy,  hath  so 
strangely  metamorphosed  the  human  shape ;  nor  the  great 
Cibber,  who  confounds  all  number,  gender,  and  breaks 
through  every  rule  of  grammar  at  his  will,  hath  so  distorted 
the  English  language  as  thou  dost  metamorphose  and  distort 
the  human  senses. 


21 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

Thou  puttest  out  our  eyes,  stoppest  up  our  ears,  and  takest 
away  the  power  of  our  nostrils ;  so  that  we  can  neither  see 
the  largest  object,  hear  the  loudest  noise,  nor  smell  the  most 
poignant  perfume.  Again,  when  thou  pleasest,  thou  canst 
make  a  molehill  appear  as  a  mountain,  a  Jew's-harp  sound 
like  a  trumpet,  and  a  daisy  smell  like  a  violet.  Thou  canst 
make  cowardice  brave,  avarice  generous,  pride  humble,  and 
cruelty  tender-hearted.  In  short,  thou  turnest  the  heart  of 
man  inside  out,  as  a  juggler  doth  a  petticoat,  and  bringest 
whatsoever  pleaseth  thee  out  from  it.  If  there  be  any  one 
who  doubts  all  this,  let  him  read  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  WHICH,  AFTER  SOME  VERY  FINE  WRITING,  THE  HISTORY 
GOES  ON,  AND  RELATES  THE  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  THE  LADY 
AND  JOSEPH  ;  WHERE  THE  LATTER  HATH  SET  AN  EXAMPLE 
WHICH  WE  DESPAIR  OF  SEEING  FOLLOWED  BY  HIS  SEX  IN 
THIS  VICIOUS  AGE. 

NOW  the  rake  Hesperus  had  called  for  his  breeches,  and, 
having  well  rubbed  his  drowsy  eyes,  prepared  to  dress 
himself  for  all  night ;  by  whose  example  his  brother  rakes  on 
earth  likewise  leave  those  beds  in  which  they  had  slept  away 
the  day.  Now  Thetis,  the  good  housewife,  began  to  put  on 
the  pot,  in  order  to  regale  the  good  man  Phoebus  after  his 
daily  labours  were  over.  In  vulgar  language,  it  was  in  the 
evening  when  Joseph  attended  his  lady's  orders. 

But  as  it  becomes  us  to  preserve  the  character  of  this  lady, 
who  is  the  heroine  of  our  tale ;  and  as  we  have  naturally  a 
wonderful  tenderness  for  that  beautiful  part  of  the  human 
species  called  the  fair  sex ;  before  we  discover  too  much  of 
her  frailty  to  our  reader,  it  will  be  proper  to  give  him  a  lively 
idea  of  the  vast  temptation,  which  overcame  all  the  efforts  of 
a  modest  and  virtuous  mind;  and  then  we  humbly  hope  his 
good  nature  will  rather  pity  than  condemn  the  imperfection 
of  human  virtue. 

Nay,  the  ladies  themselves  will,  we  hope,  be  induced,  by 

22 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

considering  the  uncommon  variety  of  charms  which  united 
in  this  young  man's  person,  to  bridle  their  rampant  passion 
for  chastity,  and  be  at  least  as  mild  as  their  violent  modesty 
and  virtue  will  permit  them,  in  censuring  the  conduct  of  a 
woman  who,  perhaps,  was  in  her  own  disposition  as  chaste 
as  those  pure  and  sanctified  virgins  who,  after  a  life  inno- 
cently spent  in  the  gaieties  of  the  town,  begin  about  fifty  to 
attend  twice  per  diem  at  the  polite  churches  and  chapels,  to 
return  thanks  for  the  grace  which  preserved  them  formerly 
amongst  beaux  from  temptations  perhaps  less  powerful  than 
What  now  attacked  the  Lady  Booby. 

Mr  Joseph  Andrews  was  now  in  the  one-and-twentieth 
year  of  his  age.  He  was  of  the  highest  degree  of  middle 
stature ;  his  limbs  were  put  together  with  great  elegance, 
and  no  less  strength ;  his  legs  and  thighs  were  formed  in  the 
exactest  proportion ;  his  shoulders  were  broad  and  brawny, 
but  yet  his  arms  hung  so  easily,  that  he  had  all  the  symp- 
toms of  strength  without  the  least  clumsiness.  His  hair  was 
of  a  nut-brown  colour,  and  was  displayed  in  wanton  ringlets 
down  his  back ;  his  forehead  was  high,  his  eyes  dark,  and  as 
full  of  sweetness  as  of  fire ;  his  nose  a  little  inclined  to  the 
Roman ;  his  teeth  white  and  even ;  his  lips  full,  red,  and  soft ; 
his  beard  was  only  rough  on  his  chin  and  upper  lip ;  but  his 
cheeks,  in  which  his  blood  glowed,  were  overspread  with  a 
thick  down ;  his  countenance  had  a  tenderness  joined  with 
a  sensibility  inexpressible.  Add  to  this  the  most  perfect  neat- 
ness in  his  dress,  and  an  air  which,  to  those  who  have  not  seen 
many  noblemen,  would  give  an  idea  of  nobility. 

Such  was  the  person  who  now  appeared  before  the  lady. 
She  viewed  him  some  time  in  silence,  and  twice  or  thrice  be- 
fore she  spoke  changed  her  mind  as  to  the  manner  in  which 
she  should  begin.  At  length  she  said  to  him,  "  Joseph,  I  am 
sorry  to  hear  such  complaints  against  you :  I  am  told  you  be- 
have so  rudely  to  the  maids,  that  they  cannot  do  their  business 
in  quiet ;  I  mean  those  who  are  not  wicked  enough  to  hearken 
to  your  solicitations.  As  to  others,  they  may,  perhaps,  not 
call  you  rude;  for  there  are  wicked  sluts  who  make  one 
ashamed  of  one's  own  sex,  and  are  as  ready  to  admit  any 
nauseous  familiarity  as  fellows  to  offer  it :  nay,  there  are 
such  in  my  family,  but  they  shall  not  stay  in  it ;  that  imprudent 

23 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

trollop  who  is  with  child  by  you  is  discharged  by  this 
time." 

As  a  person  who  is  struck  through  the  heart  with  a  thun- 
derbolt looks  extremely  surprized,  nay,  and  perhaps  is  so  too 

thus  the  poor  Joseph  received  the  false  accusation  of  his 

mistress ;  he  blushed  and  looked  confounded,  which  she  mis- 
interpreted to  be  symptoms  of  his  guilt,  and  thus  went  on : 

"  Come  hither,  Joseph :  another  mistress  might  discard  you 
for  these  offences ;  but  I  have  a  compassion  for  your  youth, 
and  if  I  could  be  certain  you  would  be  no  more  guilty — Con- 
sider, child,"  laying  her  hand  carelessly  upon  his,  "  you  are  a 
handsome  young  fellow,  and  might  do  better ;  you  might 
make  your  fortune."  "  Madam,"  said  Joseph,  "  I  do  assure 
your  ladyship  I  don't  know  whether  any  maid  in  the  house 
is  man  or  woman."  "Oh  fie!  Joseph,"  answered  the  lady, 
"  don't  commit  another  crime  in  denying  the  truth.  I  could 
pardon  the  first ;  but  I  hate  a  liar."  "  Madam,"  cries  Joseph, 
"  I  hope  your  ladyship  will  not  be  offended  at  my  asserting 
my  innocence;  for,  by  all  that  is  sacred,  I  have  never  offered 
more  than  kissing."  "  Kissing !  "  said  the  lady  with  great 
discomposure  of  countenance,  and  more  redness  in  her  cheeks 
than  anger  in  her  eyes ;  "  do  you  call  that  no  crime?  Kissing, 
Joseph,  is  as  a  prologue  to  a  play.  Can  I  believe  a  young 
fellow  of  your  age  and  complexion  will  be  content  with  kiss- 
ing? No,  Joseph,  there  is  no  woman  who  grants  that  but 
will  grant  more ;  and  I  am  deceived  greatly  in  you  if  you 
would  not  put  her  closely  to  it.  What  would  you  think, 
Joseph,  if  I  admitted  you  to  kiss  me  ?  "  Joseph  replied  he 
would  sooner  die  than  have  any  such  thought.  "  And  yet, 
Joseph,"  returned  she,  "  ladies  have  admitted  their  footmen 
to  such  familiarities ;  and  footmen,  I  confess  to  you,  much  less 
deserving  them ;  fellows  without  half  your  charms, — for  such 
might  almost  excuse  the  crime.  Tell  me  therefore,  Joseph,  if  I 
should  admit  you  to  such  freedom,  what  would  you  think  of 
me? — tell  me  freely."  "Madam,"  said  Joseph,  "I  should 
think  your  ladyship  condescended  a  great  deal  below  your- 
self." "  Pugh !  "  said  she ;  "  that  I  am  to  answer  to  myself : 
but  would  not  you  insist  on  more?  Would  you  be  contented 
with  a  kiss  ?  Would  not  your  inclinations  be  all  on  fire  rather 
by  such  a  favour?  "  "  Madam,"  said  Joseph,  "  if  they  were 
I  hope  I  should  be  able  to  control  them,  without  suffering 

24 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

them  to  get  the  better  of  my  virtue."  You  have  heard,  reader, 
poets  talk  of  the  statue  of  Surprize ;  you  have  heard  like- 
wise, or  else  you  have  heard  very  little,  how  surprize  made 
one  of  the  sons  of  Croesus  speak,  though  he  was  dumb.  You 
have  seen  the  faces,  in  the  eighteen-penny  gallery,  when, 
through  the  trap-door,  to  soft  or  no  music,  Mr  Bridgewater, 
Mr  William  Mills,  or  some  other  of  ghostly  appearance,  hath 
ascended,  with  a  face  all  pale  with  powder,  and  a  shirt  all 
bloody  with  ribbons ; — but  from  none  of  these,  nor  from  Phi- 
dias or  Praxiteles,  if  they  should  return  to  life — no,  not  from 
the  inimitable  pencil  of  my  friend  Hogarth,  could  you  receive 
such  an  idea  of  surprize  as  would  have  entered  in  at  your 
eyes  had  they  beheld  the  Lady  Booby  when  those  last  words 
issued  out  from  the  lips  of  Joseph.  '  Your  virtue !  "  said  the 
lady,  recovering  after  a  silence  of  two  minutes ;  "  I  shall  never 
survive  it.  Your  virtue ! — intolerable  confidence  !  Have  you 
the  assurance  to  pretend,  that  when  a  lady  demeans  herself 
to  throw  aside  the  rules  of  decency,  in  order  to  honour  you 
with  the  highest  favour  in  her  power,  your  virtue  should  re- 
sist her  inclination?  that,  when  she  had  conquered  her  own 
virtue,  she  should  find  an  obstruction  in  yours  ?  "  '  Madam," 
said  Joseph,  "  I  can't  see  why  her  having  no  virtue  should  be 
a  reason  against  my  having  any ;  or  why,  because  I  am  a  man, 
or  because  I  am  poor,  my  virtue  must  be  subservient  to  her 
pleasures."  "  I  am  out  of  patience,"  cries  the  lady :  "  did  ever 
mortal  hear  of  a  man's  virtue?  Did  ever  the  greatest  or  the 
gravest  men  pretend  to  any  of  this  kind?  Will  magistrates 
who  punish  lewdness,  or  parsons  who  preach  against  it,  make 
any  scruple  of  committing  it?  And  can  a  boy,  a  stripling, 
have  the  confidence  to  talk  of  his  virtue?  "  ;'  Madam,"  says 
Joseph,  "  that  boy  is  the  brother  of  Pamela,  and  would  be 
ashamed  that  the  chastity  of  his  family,  which  is  preserved 
in  her,  should  be  stained  in  him.  If  there  are  such  men  as 
your  ladyship  mentions,  I  am  sorry  for  it;  and  I  wish  they 
had  an  opportunity  of  reading  over  those  letters  which  my 
father  has  sent  me  of  my  sister  Pamela's ;  nor  do  I  doubt 
but  such  an  example  would  amend  them."  "  You  impudent 
villain !  "  cries  the  lady  in  a  rage ;  "  do  you  insult  me  with 
the  follies  of  my  relation,  who  hath  exposed  himself  all  over 
the  country  upon  your  sister's  account?  a  little  vixen,  whom 
I  have  always  wondered  my  late  Lady  John  Booby  ever  kept 

25 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

in  her  house.  Sirrah !  get  out  of  my  sight,  and  prepare  to 
set  out  this  night ;  for  I  will  order  you  your  wages  imme- 
diately, and  you  shall  be  stripped  and  turned  away." 
"  Madam,"  says  Joseph,  "  I  am  sorry  I  have  offended  your 
ladyship,  I  am  sure  I  .never  intended  it."  '  Yes,  sirrah," 
cries  she,  "  you  have  had  the  vanity  to  misconstrue  the  little 
innocent  freedom  I  took,  in  order  to  try  whether  what  I  had 
heard  was  true.  O'  my  conscience,  you  have  had  the  assurance 
to  imagine  I  was  fond  of  you  myself."  Joseph  answered,  he 
had  only  spoke  out  of  tenderness  for  his  virtue ;  at  which 
words  she  flew  into  a  violent  passion,  and  refusing  to  hear 
more,  ordered  him  instantly  to  leave  the  room. 

He  was  no  sooner  gone  than  she  burst  forth  into  the  fol- 
lowing exclamation : — "  Whither  doth  this  violent  passion 
hurry  us?  What  meannesses  do  we  submit  to  from  its  im- 
pulse !  Wisely  we  resist  its  first  and  least  approaches ;  for 
it  is  then  only  we  can  assure  ourselves  the  victory.  No 
woman  could  ever  safely  say,  so  far  only  will  I  go.  Have  I 
not  exposed  myself  to  the  refusal  of  my  footman.  I  cannot 
bear  the  reflection."  Upon  which  she  applied  herself  to  the 
bell,  and  rung  it  with  infinitely  more  violence  than  was 
necessary, — the  faithful  Slipslop  attending  near  at  hand :  to 
say  the  truth,  she  had  conceived  a  suspicion  at  her  last  in- 
terview with  her  mistress,  and  had  waited  ever  since  in  the 
antechamber,  having  carefully  applied  her  ears  to  the  keyhole 
during  the  whole  time  that  the  preceding  conversation  passed 
between  Joseph  and  the  lady. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WHAT  PASSED  BETWEEN  THE  LADY  AND  MRS  SLIPSLOP; 
IN  WHICH  WE  PROPHESY  THERE  ARE  SOME  STROKES  WHICH 
EVERY  ONE  WILL  NOT  TRULY  COMPREHEND  AT  THE  FIRST 
READING. 

SLIPSLOP,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  find  too  much  reason  to  be- 
lieve all  thou  hast  told  me  of  this  wicked  Joseph ;  I  have 
determined  to  part  with  him  instantly ;  so  go  you  to  the  stew- 

26 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

ard,  and  bid  him  pay  him  his  wages."  Slipslop,  who  had  pre- 
served hitherto  a  distance  to  her  lady — rather  out  of  neces- 
sity than  inclination — and  who  thought  the  knowledge  of 
this  secret  had  thrown  down  all  distinction  between  them, 
answered  her  mistress  very  pertly — she  wished  she  knew 
her  own  mind ;  and  that  she  was  certain  she  would  call  her 
back  again  before  she  was  got  half  way  down-stairs.  The 
lady  replied,  she  had  taken  a  resolution,  and  was  resolved  to 
keep  it.  "  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  cries  Slipslop,  "  and  if  I  had 
known  you  would  have  punished  the  poor  lad  so  severely, 
you  should  never  have  heard  a  particle  of  the  matter.  Here's 
a  fuss  indeed  about  nothing !"  '  Nothing !  ''  returned  my 
lady ;  "  do  you  think  I  will  countenance  lewdness  in  my 
house?  "  '  If  you  will  turn  away  every  footman,"  said  Slip- 
slop, "  that  is  a  lover  of  the  sport,  you  must  soon  open  the 
coach  door  yourself,  or  get  a  set  of  mophrodites  to  wait  upon 
you  ;  and  I  am  sure  I  hated  the  sight  of  them  even  singing 
in  an  opera."  "  Do  as  I  bid  you,"  says  my  lady,  "  and  don't 
shock  my  ears  with  your  beastly  language."  "  Marry  come 
up,"  cries  Slipslop,  "  people's  ears  are  sometimes  the  nicest 
part  about  them." 

The  lady,  who  began  to  admire  the  new  style  in  which  her 
waiting-gentlewoman  delivered  herself,  and  by  the  conclusion 
of  her  speech  suspected  somewhat  of  the  truth,  called  her 
back,  and  desired  to  know  what  she  meant  by  the  extraor- 
dinary degree  of  freedom  in  which  she  thought  proper  to 
indulge  her  tongue.  "  Freedom !  "  says  Slipslop ;  "  I  don't 
know  what  you  call  freedom,  madam ;  servants  have  tongues 
as  well  as  their  mistresses."  "  Yes,  and  saucy  ones  too,"  an- 
swered the  lady ;  "  but  I  assure  you  I  shall  bear  no  such 
impertinence."  "  Impertinence!  I  don't  know  that  I  am  im- 
pertinent," says  Slipslop.  "  Yes,  indeed  you  are,"  cries  my 
lady,  "  and,  unless  you  mend  your  manners,  this  house  is 
no  place  for  you."  "  Manners !  "  cries  Slipslop ;  "  I  never  was 
thought  to  want  manners  nor  modesty  neither ;  and  for  places, 
there  are  more  places  than  one ;  and  I  know  what  I  know." — 
"  What  do  you  know,  mistress?  "  answered  the  lady.  "  I  am 
not  obliged  to  tell  that  to  everybody,"  says  Slipslop,  "  any 
more  than  I  am  obliged  to  keep  it  a  secret."  '  I  desire  you 
will  provide  yourself,"  answered  the  lady.     "  With  all  my 

27 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

heart,''  replied  the  waiting-gentlewoman ;  and  so  departed  in 
a  passion,  and  slammed  the  door  after  her. 

The  lady  too  plainly  perceived  that  her  waiting-gentle- 
woman knew  more  than  she  would  willingly  have  had  her 
acquainted  with ;  and  this  she  imputed  to  Joseph's  having 
discovered  to  her  what  passed  at  the  first  interview.  This, 
therefore,  blew  up  her  rage  against  him,  and  confirmed  her 
in  a  resolution  of  parting  with  him. 

But  the  dismissing  of  Mrs  Slipslop  was  a  point  not  so  easily 
to  be  resolved  upon.  She  had  the  utmost  tenderness  for  her 
reputation,  as  she  knew  on  that  depended  many  of  the  most 
valuable  blessings  of  life ;  particularly  cards,  making  curtsies 
in  public  places,  and,  above  all,  the  pleasure  of  demolishing 
the  reputations  of  others,  in  which  innocent  amusement  she 
had  an  extraordinary  delight.  She  therefore  determined  to 
submit  to  any  insult  from  a  servant,  rather  than  run  a  risk  of 
losing  the  title  to  so  many  great  privileges. 

She  therefore  sent  for  her  steward,  Mr  Peter  Pounce,  and 
ordered  him  to  pay  Joseph  his  wages,  to  strip  off  his  livery, 
and  to  turn  him  out  of  the  house  that  evening. 

She  then  called  Slipslop  up,  and,  after  refreshing  her  spir- 
its with  a  small  cordial,  which  she  kept  in  her  closet,  she  began 
in  the  following  manner  : 

''  Slipslop,  why  will  you,  who  know  my  passionate  temper, 
attempt  to  provoke  me  by  your  answers?  I  am  convinced 
you  are  an  honest  servant,  and  should  be  very  unwilling  to 
part  with  you.  I  believe,  likewise,  you  have  found  me  an 
indulgent  mistress  on  many  occasions,  and  have  as  little  rea- 
son on  your  side  to  desire  a  change.  I  can't  help  being  sur- 
prised, therefore,  that  you  will  take  the  surest  method  to 
offend  me — I  mean,  repeating  my  words,  which  you  know  I 
have  always  detested." 

The  prudent  waiting-gentlewoman  had  duly  weighed  the 
whole  matter,  and  found,  on  mature  deliberation,  that  a  good 
place  in  possession  was  better  than  one  in  expectation.  As 
she  found  her  mistress,  therefore,  inclined  to  relent,  she 
thought  proper  also  to  put  on  some  small  condescension, 
which  was  as  readily  accepted ;  and  so  the  affair  was  recon- 
ciled, all  offences  forgiven,  and  a  present  of  a  gown  and 
petticoat  made  her,  as  an  instance  of  her  lady's  future  favour. 

28 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

She  offered  once  or  twice  to  speak  in  favour  of  Joseph ; 
but  found  her  lady's  heart  so  obdurate,  that  she  prudently 
dropt  all  such  efforts.  She  considered  there  were  more  foot- 
men in  the  house,  and  some  as  stout  fellows,  though  not  quite 
so  handsome,  as  Joseph ;  besides,  the  reader  hath  already 
seen  her  tender  advances  had  not  met  with  the  encourage- 
ment she  might  have  reasonably  expected.  She  thought  she 
had  thrown  away  a  great  deal  of  sack  and  sweetmeats  on  an 
ungrateful  rascal ;  and,  being  a  little  inclined  to  the  opinion 
of  that  female  sect,  who  hold  one  lusty  young  fellow  to  be 
nearly  as  good  as  another  lusty  young  fellow,  she  at  last  gave 
up  Joseph  and  his  cause,  and,  with  a  triumph  over  her  passion 
highly  commendable,  walked  off  with  her  present,  and  with 
great  tranquillity  paid  a  visit  to  a  stone-bottle,  which  is  of 
sovereign  use  to  a  philosophical  temper. 

She  left  not  her  mistress  so  easy.  The  poor  lady  could  not 
reflect  without  agony  that  her  dear  reputation  was  in  the 
power  of  her  servants.  All  her  comfort  as  to  Joseph  was, 
that  she  hoped  he  did  not  understand  her  meaning ;  at  least 
she  could  say  for  herself,  she  had  not  plainly  expressed  any 
thing  to  him ;  and  as  to  Mrs  Slipslop,  she  imagined  she  could 
bribe  her  to  secresy. 

But  what  hurt  her  most  was,  that  in  reality  she  had  not  so 
entirely  conquered  her  passion ;  the  little  god  lay  lurking  in 
her  heart,  though  anger  and  disdain  so  hoodwinked  her,  that 
she  could  not  see  him.  She  was  a  thousand  times  on  the  very 
brink  of  revoking  the  sentence  she  had  passed  against  the 
poor  youth.  Love  became  his  advocate,  and  whispered  many 
things  in  his  favour.  Honour  likewise  endeavoured  to  vindi- 
cate his  crime,  and  Pity  to  mitigate  his  punishment.  On  the 
other  side,  Pride  and  Revenge  spoke  as  loudly  against  him. 
And  thus  the  poor  lady  was  tortured  with  perplexity,  opposite 
passions  distracting  and  tearing  her  mind  different  ways. 

So  have  I  seen,  in  the  hall  of  Westminster,  where  Serjeant 
Bramble  hath  been  retained  on  the  right  side,  and  Serjeant 
Puzzle  on  the  left,  the  balance  of  opinion  (so  equal  were 
their  fees)  alternately  incline  to  either  scale.  Now  Bramble 
throws  in  an  argument,  and  Puzzle's  scale  strikes  the  beam ; 
again  Bramble  shares  the  like  fate,  overpowered  by  the  weight 
of  Puzzle.     Here  Bramble  hits,  there  Puzzle  strikes;  here 

29 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

one  has  you,  there  t'other  has  you ;  till  at  last  all  becomes  one 
scene  of  confusion  in  the  tortured  minds  of  the  hearers ;  equal 
wagers  are  laid  on  the  success,  and  neither  judge  nor  jury  can 
possibly  make  anything  of  the  matter;  all  things  are  so  en- 
veloped by  the  careful  Serjeants  in  doubt  and  obscurity. 

Or,  as  it  happens  in  the  conscience,  where  honour  and  hon- 
esty pull  one  way,  and  a  bribe  and  necessity  another. If 

it  was  our  present  business  only  to  make  similes,  we  could 
produce  many  more  to  this  purpose ;  but  a  simile  (as  well  as 
a  word)  to  the  wise. — We  shall  therefore  see  a  little  after  our 
hero,  for  whom  the  reader  is  doubtless  in  some  pain. 


CHAPTER  X. 


JOSEPH  WRITES  ANOTHER  LETTER:  HIS  TRANSACTIONS  WITH 
MR  PETER  POUNCE,  ETC.,  WITH  HIS  DEPARTURE  FROM  LADY 
BOOBY. 

THE  disconsolate  Joseph  would  not  have  had  an  under- 
standing sufficient  for  the  principal  subject  of  such  a 
book  as  this,  if  he  had  any  longer  misunderstood  the  drift 
of  his  mistress ;  and  indeed,  that  he  did  not  discern  it  sooner, 
the  reader  will  be  pleased  to  impute  to  an  unwillingness  in  him 
to  discover  what  he  must  condemn  in  her  as  a  fault.  Having 
therefore  quitted  her  presence,  he  retired  into  his  own  garret, 
and  entered  himself  into  an  ejaculation  on  the  numberless 
calamities  which  attended  beauty,  and  the  misfortune  it  was 
to  be  handsomer  than  one's  neighbours. 

He  then  sat  down,  and  addressed  himself  to  his  sister  Pa- 
mela in  the  following  words : 

"Dear  Sister  Pamela, — Hoping  you  are  well,  what  news 
have  I  to  tell  you !  O  Pamela !  my  mistress  is  fallen  in  love 
with  me — that  is,  what  great  folks  call  falling  in  love, — she 
has  a  mind  to  ruin  me ;  but  I  hope  I  shall  have  more  resolu- 
tion and  more  grace  than  to  part  with  my  virtue  to  any  lady 
upon  earth. 

"  .Mr  Adams  hath  often  told  me,  that  chastity  is  as  great  a 
virtue  in  a  man  as  in  a  woman.    He  says  he  never  knew  any 

3° 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

more  than  his  wife,  and  I  shall  endeavour  to  follow  his  ex- 
ample. Indeed,  it  is  owing  entirely  to  his  excellent  sermons 
and  advice,  together  with  your  letters,  that  I  have  been  able 
to  resist  a  temptation,  which,  he  says,  no  man  complies  with, 
but  he  repents  in  this  world,  or  is  damned  for  it  in  the  next; 
and  why  should  I  trust  to  repentance  on  my  deathbed,  since 
I  may  die  in  my  sleep?  But  fine  things  are  good  advice 
and  good  examples!  But  I  am  glad  she  turned  me  out  of 
the  chamber  as  she  did :  for  I  had  once  almost  forgotten  every 
word  parson  Adams  had  ever  said  to  me. 

"  I  don't  doubt,  dear  sister,  but  you  will  have  grace  to  pre- 
serve your  virtue  against  all  trials;  and  I  beg  you  earnestly 
to  pray  I  may  be  enabled  to  preserve  mine;  for  trulv  it  is 
very  severely  attacked  by  more  than  one ;  but  I  hope  I  shall 
copy  your  example,  and  that  of  Joseph  my  namesake,  and 
maintain  my  virtue  against  all  temptations." 

Joseph  had  not  finished  his  letter,  when  he  was  summoned 
down-stairs  by  Mr  Peter  Pounce,  to  receive  his  wages ;  for, 
besides  that  out  of  eight  pounds  a-year  he  allowed  his  father 
and  mother  four,  he  had  been  obliged,  in  order  to  furnish 
himself  with  musical  instruments,  to  apply  to  the  generosity 
of  the  aforesaid  Peter,  who,  on  urgent  occasions,  used  to  ad- 
vance the  servants  their  wages :  not  before  they  were  due, 
but  before  they  were  payable ;  that  is,  perhaps,  half  a  year 
after  they  were  due;  and  this  at  the  moderate  premium  of 
fifty  per  cent,  or  a  little  more :  by  which  charitable  methods, 
together  with  lending  money  to  other  people,  and  even  to 
his  own  master  and  mistress,  the  honest  man  had,  from  no- 
thing, in  a  few  years  amassed  a  small  sum  of  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds  or  thereabouts. 

Joseph  having  received  his  little  remainder  of  wages,  and 
having  stript  off  his  livery,  was  forced  to  borrow  a  frock  and 
breeches  of  one  of  the  servants  (for  he  was  so  beloved  in  the 
family,  that  they  would  all  have  lent  him  anything)  :  and, 
being  told  by  Peter  that  he  must  not  stay  a  moment  longer 
in  the  house  than  was  necessary  to  pack  up  his  linen,  which 
he  easily  did  in  a  very  narrow  compass,  he  took  a  melancholy 
leave  of  his  fellow-servants,  and  set  out  at  seven  in  the 
evening. 

He  had  proceeded  the  length  of  two  or  three  streets,  before 

3i 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

he  absolutely  determined  with  himself  whether  he  should 
leave  the  town  that  night,  or,  procuring  a  lodging,  wait  till 
the  morning.  At  last,  the  moon  shining  very  bright  helped 
him  to  come  to  a  resolution  of  beginning  his  journey  immedi- 
ately, to  which  likewise  he  had  some  other  inducements ;  which 
the  reader,  without  being  a  conjurer,  cannot  possibly  guess, 
till  we  have  given  him  those  hints  which  it  may  be  now  proper 
to  open. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

OF  SEVERAL  NEW  MATTERS  NOT  EXPECTED. 

IT  is  an  observation  sometimes  made,  that  to  indicate  our 
idea  of  a  simple  fellow,  we  say,  he  is  easily  to  be  seen 
through :  nor  do  I  believe  it  a  more  improper  denotation  of  a 
simple  book.  Instead  of  applying  this  to  any  particular  per- 
formance, we  choose  rather  to  remark  the  contrary  in  this 
history,  where  the  scene  opens  itself  by  small  degrees;  and  he 
is  a  sagacious  reader  who  can  see  two  chapters  before  him. 

For  this  reason,  we  have  not  hitherto  hinted  a  matter 
which  now  seems  necessary  to  be  explained ;  since  it  may  be 
wondered  at,  first,  that  Joseph  made  such  extraordinary  haste 
out  of  town,  which  hath  been  already  shown ;  and  secondly, 
which  will  be  now  shown,  that,  instead  of  proceeding  to  the 
habitation  of  his  father  and  mother,  or  to  his  beloved  sister 
Pamela,  he  chose  rather  to  set  out  full  speed  to  the  Lady 
Booby's  country-seat,  which  he  had  left  on  his  journey  to 
London. 

Be  it  known,  then,  that  in  the  same  parish  where  this  seat 
stood  there  lived  a  young  girl  whom  Joseph  (though  the  best 
of  sons  and  brothers)  longed  more  impatiently  to  see  than 
his  parents  or  his  sister.  She  was  a  poor  girl,  who  had  for- 
merly been  bred  up  in  Sir  John's  family ;  whence,  a  little 
before  the  journey  to  London,  she  had  been  discarded  by  Mrs 
Slipslop,  on  account  of  her  extraordinary  beauty :  for  I  never 
could  find  any  other  reason. 

This  young  creature  (who  now  lived  with  a  farmer  in  the 

32 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

parish)  had  been  always  beloved  by  Joseph,  and  returned  his 
affection.  She  was  two  years  only  younger  than  our  hero. 
They  had  been  acquainted  from  their  infancy,  and  had  con- 
ceived a  very  early  liking  for  each  other ;  which  had  grown 
to  such  a  degree  of  affection,  that  Mr  Adams  had  with  much 
ado  prevented  them  from  marrying,  and  persuaded  them  to 
wait  till  a  few  years'  service  and  thrift  had  a  little  improved 
their  experience,  and  enabled  them  to  live  comfortably  to- 
gether. 

They  followed  this  good  man's  advice,  as  indeed  his  word 
was  little  less  that  a  law  in  his  parish;  for  as  he  had  shown 
his  parishioners,  by  an  uniform  behaviour  of  thirty-five  years' 
duration,  that  he  had  their  good  entirely  at  heart,  so  they 
consulted  him  on  every  occasion,  and  very  seldom  acted  con- 
trary to  his  opinion. 

Nothing  can  be  imagined  more  tender  than  was  the  parting 
between  these  two  lovers.  A  thousand  sighs  heaved  the  bosom 
of  Joseph,  a  thousand  tears  distilled  from  the  lovely  eyes  of 
Fanny  (for  that  was  her  name).  Though  her  modesty  would 
only  suffer  her  to  admit  his  eager  kisses,  her  violent  love 
made  her  more  than  passive  in  his  embraces ;  and  she  often 
pulled  him  to  her  breast  with  a  soft  pressure,  which,  though 
perhaps  it  would  not  have  squeezed  an  insect  to  death,  caused 
more  emotion  in  the  heart  of  Joseph  than  the  closest  Cornish 
hug  could  have  done. 

The  reader  may  perhaps  wonder  that  so  fond  a  pair  should, 
during  a  twelvemonth's  absence,  never  converse  with  one 
another :  indeed,  there  was  but  one  reason  which  did  or  could 
have  prevented  them ;  and  this  was,  that  poor  Fanny  could 
neither  write  nor  read :  nor  could  she  be  prevailed  upon  to 
transmit  the  delicacies  of  her  tender  and  chaste  passion  by 
the  hands  of  an  amanuensis. 

They  contented  themselves  therefore  with  frequent  inquir- 
ies after  each  other's  health,  with  a  mutual  confidence  in  each 
other's  fidelity,  and  the  prospect  of  their  future  happiness. 

Having  explained  these  matters  to  our  reader,  and,  as  far 
as  possible,  satisfied  all  his  doubts,  we  return  to  honest  Jo- 
seph, whom  we  left  just  set  out  on  his  travels  by  the  light  of 
the  moon. 

Those  who  have  read  any  romance  or  poetry,  ancient  or 

3  33 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

modern,  must  have  been  informed  that  love  hath  wings :  by 
which  they  are  not  to  understand,  as  some  young  ladies  by 
mistake  have  done,  that  a  lover  can  fly ;  the  writers,  by  this 
ingenious  allegory,  intending  to  insinuate  no  more  than  that 
lovers  do  not  march  like  horse-guards ;  in  short,  that  they 
put  the  best  leg  foremost ;  which  our  lusty  youth,  who  could 
walk  with  any  man,  did  so  heartily  on  this  occasion,  that 
within  four  hours  he  reached  a  famous  house  of  hospitality 
well  known  to  the  western  traveller.  It  presents  you  a  lion 
on  the  sign-post :  and  the  master,  who  was  christened  Timo- 
theus,  is  commonly  called  plain  Tim.  Some  have  conceived 
that  he  hath  particularly  chosen  the  lion  for  his  sign,  as  he 
doth  in  countenance  greatly  resemble  that  magnanimous  beast, 
though  his  disposition  savours  more  of  the  sweetness  of  the 
lamb.  He  is  a  person  well  received  among  all  sorts  of  men, 
being  qualified  to  render  himself  agreeable  to  any ;  as  he  is 
well  versed  in  history  and  politics,  hath  a  smattering  in  law 
and  divinity,  cracks  a  good  jest,  and  plays  wonderfully  well 
on  the  French  horn. 

A  violent  storm  of  hail  forced  Joseph  to  take  shelter  in 
this  inn,  where  he  remembered  Sir  Thomas  had  dined  in  his 
way  to  town.  Joseph  had  no  sooner  seated  himself  by  the 
kitchen  fire  than  Timotheus,  observing  his  livery,  began  to 
condole  the  loss  of  his  late  master;  who  was,  he  said,  his 
very  particular  and  intimate  acquaintance,  with  whom  he 
had  cracked  many  a  merry  bottle,  ay  many  a  dozen,  in  his 
time.  He  then  remarked,  that  all  these  things  were  over 
now,  all  passed,  and  just  as  if  they  had  never  been;  and 
concluded  with  an  excellent  observation  on  the  certainty  of 
death,  which  his  wife  said  was  indeed  very  true.  A  fellow 
now  arrived  at  the  same  inn  with  two  horses,  one  of  which 
he  was  leading  farther  down  into  the  country  to  meet  his 
master ;  these  he  put  into  the  stable,  and  came  and  took  his 
place  by  Joseph's  side,  who  immediately  knew  him  to  be  the 
servant  of  a  neighbouring  gentleman,  who  used  to  visit  at 
their  house. 

This  fellow  was  likewise  forced  in  by  the  storm;  for  he 
had  orders  to  go  twenty  miles  farther  that  evening,  and 
luckily  on  the  same  road  which  Joseph  himself  intended  to 
take.     He,  therefore,  embraced  this  opportunity  of  compli- 

34 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

meriting-  his  friend  with  his  master's  horse  (notwithstanding 
he  had  received  express  commands  to  the  contrary),  which 
was  readily  accepted ;  and  so,  after  they  had  drank  a  loving 
pot,  and  the  storm  was  over,  they  set  out  together. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CONTAINING  MANY  SURPRISING  ADVENTURES  WHICH  JOSEPH 
ANDREWS  MET  WITH  ON  THE  ROAD,  SCARCE  CREDIBLE  TO 
THOSE  WHO  HAVE  NEVER  TRAVELLED  IN  A  STAGE-COACH. 

NOTHING  remarkable  happened  on  the  road  till  their 
arrival  at  the  inn  to  which  the  horses  were  ordered ; 
whither  they  came  about  two  in  the  morning.  The  moon  then 
shone  very  bright ;  and  Joseph,  making  his  friend  a  present  of 
a  pint  of  wine,  and  thanking  him  for  the  favour  of  his  horse, 
notwithstanding  all  entreaties  to  the  contrary,  proceeded  on 
his  journey  on  foot. 

He  had  not  gone  above  two  miles,  charmed  with  the  hope 
of  shortly  seeing  his  beloved  Fanny,  when  he  was  met  by 
two  fellows  in  a  narrow  lane,  and  ordered  to  stand  and  de- 
liver. He  readily  gave  them  all  the  money  he  had,  which 
was  somewhat  less  than  two  pounds ;  and  told  them  he  hoped 
they  would  be  so  generous  as  to  return  him  a  few  shillings, 
to  defray  his  charges  on  his  way  home. 

One  of  the  ruffians  answered  with  an  oath,  "Yes,  we'll 
give  you  something  presently :  but  first  strip  and  be  d — n'd 
to  you." — "  Strip,"  cried  the  other,  "  or  I'll  blow  your  brains 
to  the  devil."  Joseph,  remembering  that  he  had  borrowed 
his  coat  and  breeches  of  a  friend,  and  that  he  should  be 
ashamed  of  making  any  excuse  for  not  returning  them,  re- 
plied, he  hoped  they  would  not  insist  on  his  clothes,  which 
were  not  worth  much,  but  consider  the  coldness  of  the  night. 
"You  are  cold,  are  you,  you  rascal?"  said  one  of  the  rob- 
bers :  "  I'll  warm  you  with  a  vengeance ;  "  and,  damning  his 
eyes,  snapped  a  pistol  at  his  head  ;  which  he  had  no  sooner 
done  than  the  other  levelled  a  blow  at  him  with  his  stick, 
which  Joseph,  who  was  expert  at  cudgel-playing,  caught  with 

35 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

his,  and  returned  the  favour  so  successfully  on  his  adversary, 
that  he  laid  him  sprawling  at  his  feet,  and  at  the  same  in- 
stant received  a  blow  from  behind,  with  the  butt  end  of  a 
pistol,  from  the  other  villain,  which  felled  him  to  the  ground, 
and  totally  deprived  him  of  his  senses. 

The  thief  who  had  been  knocked  down  had  now  recovered 
himself ;  and  both  together  fell  to  belabouring  poor  Joseph 
with  their  sticks,  till  they  were  convinced  they  had  put  an  end 
to  his  miserable  being :  they  then  stripped  him  entirely  naked, 
threw  him  into  a  ditch,  and  departed  with  their  booty. 

The  poor  wretch,  who  lay  motionless  a  long  time,  just  be- 
gan to  recover  his  senses  as  a  stage-coach  came  by.  The 
postilion,  hearing  a  man's  groans,  stopt  his  horses,  and  told 
the  coachman  he  was  certain  there  was  a  dead  man  lying  in 
the  ditch,  for  he  heard  him  groan.  "  Go  on,  sirrah,"  says  the 
coachman ;  "  we  are  confounded  late,  and  have  no  time  to 
look  after  dead  men."  A  lady,  who  heard  what  the  postilion 
said,  and  likewise  heard  the  groan,  called  eagerly  to  the  coach- 
man to  stop  and  see  what  was  the  matter.  Upon  which  he 
bid  the  postilion  alight,  and  look  into  the  ditch.  He  did  so, 
and  returned,  that  there  was  a  man  sitting  upright,  as  naked 
as  ever  he  was  born. — "  O  J — sus ! ';  cried  the  lady ;  "  a 
naked  man !  Dear  coachman,  drive  on  and  leave  him."  Upon 
this  the  gentlemen  got  out  of  the  coach ;  and  Joseph  begged 
them  to  have  mercy  upon  him :  for  that  he  had  been  robbed 
and  almost  beaten  to  death.  "  Robbed !  "  cries  an  old  gen- 
tleman :  "  let  us  make  all  the  haste  imaginable,  or  we  shall 
be  robbed  too."  A  young  man  who  belonged  to  the  law  an- 
swered, he  wished  they  had  passed  by  without  taking  any 
notice ;  but  that  now  they  might  be  proved  to  have  been  last 
in  his  company ;  if  he  should  die  they  might  be  called  to 
some  account  for  his  murder.  He  therefore  thought  it  ad- 
visable to  save  the  poor  creature's  life,  for  their  own  sakes,  if 
possible;  at  least,  if  he  died,  to  prevent  the  jury's  finding 
that  they  fled  for  it.  He  was  therefore  of  opinion  to  take 
the  man  into  the  coach,  and  carry  him  to  the  next  inn. 
The  lady  insisted,  that  he  should  not  come  into  the  coach. 
That  if  they  lifted  him  in,  she  would  herself  alight :  for  she 
had  rather  stay  in  that  place  to  all  eternity  than  ride  with  a 
naked  man.    The  coachman  objected,  that  he  could  not  suffer 

36 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

him  to  be  taken  in  unless  somebody  would  pay  a  shilling  for 
his  carriage  the  four  miles.  Which  the  two  gentlemen  refused 
to  do.  But  the  lawyer,  who  was  afraid  of  some  mischief  hap- 
pening to  himself,  if  the  wretch  was  left  behind  in  that  con- 
dition, saying  no  man  could  be  too  cautious  in  these  matters, 
and  that  he  remembered  very  extraordinary  cases  in  the  books, 
threatened  the  coachman,  and  bid  him  deny  taking  him  up  at 
his  peril ;  for  that,  if  he  died,  he  should  be  indicted  for  his 
murder ;  and  if  he  lived,  and  brought  an  action  against  him, 
he  would  willingly  take  a  brief  in  it.  These  words  had  a 
sensible  effect  on  the  coachman,  who  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  person  who  spoke  them ;  and  the  old  gentleman  above 
mentioned,  thinking  the  naked  man  would  afford  him  frequent 
opportunities  of  showing  his  wit  to  the  lady,  offered  to  join 
with  the  company  in  giving  a  mug  of  beer  for  his  fare ;  till, 
partly  alarmed  by  the  threats  of  the  one,  and  partly  by  the 
promises  of  the  other,  and  being  perhaps  a  little  moved  with 
compassion  at  the  poor  creature's  condition,  who  stood  bleed- 
ing and  shivering  with  the  cold,  he  at  length  agreed ;  and  Jo- 
seph was  now  advancing  to  the  coach,  where,  seeing  the  lady, 
who  held  the  sticks  of  her  fan  before  her  eyes,  he  abso- 
lutely refused,  miserable  as  he  was,  to  enter,  unless  he  was 
furnished  with  sufficient  covering  to  prevent  giving  the  least 
offence  to  decency, — so  perfectly  modest  was  this  young  man  ; 
such  mighty  effects  had  the  spotless  example  of  the  amiable 
Pamela,  and  the  excellent  sermons  of  Mr  Adams,  wrought 
upon  him. 

Though  there  were  several  great-coats  about  the  coach,  it 
was  not  easy  to  get  over  this  difficulty  which  Joseph  had 
started.  The  two  gentlemen  complained  they  were  cold, 
and  could  not  spare  a  rag;  the  man  of  wit  saying,  with  a 
laugh,  that  charity  began  at  home ;  and  the  coachman,  who 
had  two  great-coats  spread  under  him,  refused  to  lend  either, 
lest  they  should  be  made  bloody :  the  lady's  footman  desired 
to  be  excused  for  the  same  reason,  which  the  lady  herself, 
notwithstanding  her  abhorrence  of  a  naked  man,  approved: 
and  it  is  more  than  probable  poor  Joseph,  who  obstinately 
adhered  to  his  modest  resolution,  must  have  perished,  unless 
the  postilion  (a  lad  who  hath  been  since  transported  for  rob- 
bing a  henroost)  had  voluntarily  stript  off  a  great  coat,  his 

37 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

only  garment,  at  the  same  time  swearing  a  great  oath  (for 
which  he  was  rebuked  by  the  passengers),  that  he  would 
rather  ride  in  his  shirt  all  his  life  than  suffer  a  fellow-creature 
to  lie  in  so  miserable  a  condition. 

Joseph,  having  put  on  the  great-coat,  was  lifted  into  the 
coach,  which  now  proceeded  on  its  journey.  He  declared 
himself  almost  dead  with  the  cold,  which  gave  the  man  of 
wit  an  occasion  to  ask  the  lady  if  she  could  not  accommo- 
date him  with  a  dram.  She  answered,  with  some  resent- 
ment, she  wondered  at  his  asking  her  such  a  question  ;  but 
assured  him  she  never  tasted  anv  such  thine. 

The  lawyer  was  inquiring  into  the  circumstances  of  the 
robbery,  when  the  coach  stopt,  and  one  of  the  ruffians,  put- 
ting a  pistol  in,  demanded  their  money  of  the  passengers, 
who  readily  gave  it  them ;  and  the  lady,  in  her  fright,  de- 
livered up  a  little  silver  bottle,  of  about  a  half-pint  size,  which 
the  rogue,  clapping  it  to  his  mouth,  and  drinking  her  health, 
declared,  held  some  of  the  best  Nantes  he  had  ever  tasted : 
this  the  lady  afterwards  assured  the  company  was  the  mis- 
take of  her  maid,  for  that  she  had  ordered  her  to  fill  the 
bottle  with  Hungary-water. 

As  soon  as  the  fellows  were  departed,  the  lawyer,  who  had, 
it  seems,  a  case  of  pistols  in  the  seat  of  the  coach,  informed 
the  company,  that  if  it  had  been  daylight,  and  he  could  have 
come  at  his  pistols,  he  would  not  have  submitted  to  the  rob- 
bery :  he  likewise  set  forth  that  he  had  often  met  highwaymen 
when  he  travelled  on  horseback,  but  none  ever  durst  attack 
him ;  concluding  that,  if  he  had  not  been  more  afraid  for  the 
lady  than  for  himself,  he  should  not  have  now  parted  with 
his  money  so  easily. 

As  wit  is  generally  observed  to  love  to  reside  in  empty 
pockets,  so  the  gentleman  whose  ingenuity  we  have  above 
remarked,  as  soon  as  he  had  parted  with  his  money,  began 
to  grow  wonderfully  facetious.  He  made  frequent  allusions 
to  Adam  and  Eve,  and  said  many  excellent  things  on  figs 
and  fig-leaves ;  which  perhaps  gave  more  offence  to  Joseph 
than  to  any  other  in  the  company. 

The  lawyer  likewise  made  several  very  pretty  jests  without 
departing  from  his  profession.  He  said,  if  Joseph  and  the 
lady  were  alone,  he  would  be  more  capable  of  making  a  con- 

38 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

veyance  to  her,  as  his  affairs  were  not  fettered  with  any  in- 
cumbrance ;  he'd  warrant  he  soon  suffered  a  recovery  by  a 
writ  of  entry,  which  was  the  proper  way  to  create  heirs  in 
tail ;  that,  for  his  own  part,  he  would  engage  to  make  so  firm 
a  settlement  in  a  coach,  that  there  should  be  no  danger  of  an 
ejectment ;  with  an  inundation  of  the  like  gibberish,  which 
he  continued  to  vent  till  the  coach  arrived  at  an  inn,  where 
one  servant-maid  only  was  up,  in  readiness  to  attend  the 
coachman,  and  furnish  him  with  cold  meat  and  a  dram.  Jo- 
seph desired  to  alight,  and  that  he  might  have  a  bed  pre- 
pared for  him,  which  the  maid  readily  promised  to  perform; 
and,  being  a  good-natured  wench,  and  not  so  squeamish  as 
the  lady  had  been,  she  clapt  a  large  fagot  on  the  fire,  and, 
furnishing  Joseph  with  a  great-coat  belonging  to  one  of  the 
hostlers,  desired  him  to  sit  down  and  warm  himself  whilst 
she  made  his  bed.  The  coachman,  in  the  mean  time,  took 
an  opportunity  to  call  up  a  surgeon,  who  lived  within  a  few 
doors ;  after  which,  he  reminded  his  passengers  how  late 
they  were,  and,  after  they  had  taken  leave  of  Joseph,  hurried 
them  off  as  fast  as  he  could. 

The  wench  soon  got  Joseph  to  bed,  and  promised  to  use 
her  interest  to  borrow  him  a  shirt ;  but  imagining,  as  she 
afterwards  said,  by  his  being  so  bloody,  that  he  must  be  a 
dead  man,  she  ran  with  all  speed  to  hasten  the  surgeon,  who 
was  more  than  half  drest,  apprehending  that  the  coach  had 
been  overturned,  and  some  gentleman  or  lady  hurt.  As  soon 
as  the  wench  had  informed  him  at  his  window  that  it  was  a 
poor  foot-passenger  who  had  been  stripped  of  all  he  had,  and 
almost  murdered,  he  chid  her  for  disturbing  him  so  early, 
slipped  off  his  clothes  again,  and  very  quietly  returned  to  bed 
and  to  sleep. 

Aurora  now  began  to  show  her  blooming  cheeks  over  the 
hills,  whilst  ten  millions  of  feathered  songsters,  in  jocund 
chorus,  repeated  odes  a  thousand  times  sweeter  than  those  of 
our  laureat,  and  sung  both  the  day  and  the  song;  when  the 
master  of  the  inn,  Mr  Tow-wouse,  arose,  and.  learning  from 
his  maid  an  account  of  the  robbery,  and  the  situation  of  his 
poor  naked  guest,  he  shook  his  head  and  cried,  "  good-lack- 
a-day !  "  and  then  ordered  the  girl  to  carry  him  one  of  his  own 
shirts. 

39 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mrs  Tow-wouse  was  just  awake,  and  had  stretched  out  her 
arms  in  vain  to  fold  her  departed  husband,  when  the  maid 
entered  the   room.     "  Who's   there  ?     Betty  ?  " — "  Yes,   ma- 
dam."— "  Where's  your  master  ?  " — "  He's  without,  madam  ; 
he  hath  sent  me  for  a  shirt  to  lend  a  poor  naked  man,  who 
hath  been  robbed  and  murdered." — "  Touch  one  if  you  dare, 
you  slut,"  said  Mrs  Tow-wouse :  "  your  master  is  a  pretty 
sort  of  a  man,  to  take  in  naked  vagabonds,  and  clothe  them 
with  his  own  clothes.     I  shall  have  no  such  doings.     If  you 
offer  to  touch  anything,  I'll  throw  the  chamber-pot  at  your 
head.     Go,  send  your  master  to  me." — "  Yes,  madam,"  an- 
swered Betty.    As  soon  as  he  came  in,  she  thus  began  :  "  What 
the  devil  do  you  mean  by  this,  Mr  Tow-wouse?     Am  I  to 
buy  shirts  to  lend  to  a  set  of  scabby  rascals  ?  " — "  My  dear," 
said  Mr  Tow-wouse,  "  this  is  a  poor  wretch." — "  Yes,"  says 
she,  "  I  know  it  is  a  poor  wretch ;  but  what  the  devil  have 
we  to  do  with  poor  wretches  ?    The  law  makes  us  provide  for 
too  many  already.  We  shall  have  thirty  or  forty  poor  wretches 
in  red  coats  shortly." — "  My  dear,"  cries  Tow-wouse,  "  this 
man  hath  been  robbed  of  all  he  hath." — "  Well  then,"  said 
she,  "  where's  his  money  to  pay  his  reckoning  ?     Why  doth 
not  such  a  fellow  go  to  an  alehouse?    I  shall  send  him  pack- 
ing as  soon  as  I  am  up,  I  assure  you." — "  My  dear,"  said  he, 
"  common  charity  won't  suffer  you  to  do  that."     "  Common 
charity,  a  f — t !  "  says  she,  "  common  charity  teaches  us  to 
provide  for  ourselves  and  our  families ;  and  I  and  mine  won't 
be  ruined  by  your  charity,  I  assure  you." — "  Well,"  says  he, 
"  my  dear,  do  as  you  will,  when  you  are  up ;  you  know  I 
never  contradict  you." — "  No,"  says  she ;  "  if  the  devil  was  to 
contradict  me,  I  would  make  the  house  too  hot  to  hold  him." 
With  such  like  discourses  they  consumed  near  half  an  hour, 
whilst  Betty  provided  a  shirt  from  the  hostler,  who  was  one 
of  her  sweethearts,  and  put  it  on  poor  Joseph.     The  surgeon 
had  likewise  at  last  visited  him,  and  washed  and  drest  his 
wounds,   and   was   now   come   to   acquaint    Mr   Tow-wouse 
that  his  guest  was  in  such  extreme  danger  of  his  life,  that  he 
scarce  saw  any  hopes  of  his  recovery.    "  Here's  a  pretty  kettle 
of  fish,"  cries  Mrs  Tow-wouse,  "you  have  brought  upon  us! 
We  are  like  to  have  a  funeral  at  our  own  expense."     Tow- 
wouse  (who,  notwithstanding  his  charity,  would  have  given 

40 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

his  vote  as  freely  as  ever  he  did  at  an  election,  that  any  other 
house  in  the  kingdom  should  have  quiet  possession  of  his 
guest)  answered,  "My  dear,  I  am  not  to  blame;  he  was 
brought  hither  by  the  stage-coach,  and  Betty  had  put  him  to 
bed  before  I  was  stirring." — "  I'll  Betty  her,"  says  she. — 
At  which,  with  half  her  garments  on,  the  other  half  under 
her  arm,  she  sallied  out  in  quest  of  the  unfortunate  Betty, 
whilst  Tow-wouse  and  the  surgeon  went  to  pay  a  visit  topoor 
Joseph,  and  inquire  into  the  circumstances  of  this  melancholy 
affair. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  JOSEPH  DURING  HIS  SICKNESS  AT  THE 
INN,  WITH  THE  CURIOUS  DISCOURSE  BETWEEN  HIM  AND  MR 
BARNABAS,  THE  PARSON  OF  THE  PARISH.     _ 

AS  soon  as  Joseph  had  communicated  a  particular  history 
.x\  of  the  robbery,  together  with  a  short  account  of  himself, 
and  his  intended  journey,  he  asked  the  surgeon  if  he  appre- 
hended him  to  be  in  any  danger :  to  which  the  surgeon  very 
honestly  answered,  he  feared  he  was ;  for  that  his  pulse  was 
very  exalted  and  feverish,  and,  if  his  fever  should  prove  more 
than  symptomatic,  it  would  be  impossible  to  save  him.  Joseph, 
fetching  a  deep  sigh,  cried,  "  Poor  Fanny,  I  would  I  could 
have  lived  to  see  thee !  but  God's  will  be  done." 

The  surgeon  then  advised  him,  if  he  had  any  worldly 
affairs  to  settle,  that  he  would  do  it  as  soon  as  possible ;  for, 
though  he  hoped  he  might  recover,  yet  he  thought  himself 
obliged  to  acquaint  him  he  was  in  great  danger;  and  if  the 
malign  concoction  of  his  humours  should  cause  a  suscitation 
of  his  fever,  he  might  soon  grow  delirious  and  incapable  to 
make  his  will.  Joseph  answered,  that  it  was  impossible  for 
any  creature  in  the  universe  to  be  in  a  poorer  condition  than 
himself;  for  since  the  robbery  he  had  not  one  thing  of  any 
kind  whatever  which  he  could  call  his  own.  "  I  had,"  said  he, 
"  a  poor  little  piece  of  gold,  which  they  took  away,  that  would 
have  been  a  comfort  to  me  in  all  my  afflictions;  but  surely, 

4i 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

Fanny,  I  want  nothing  to  remind  me  of  thee.  I  have  thy 
dear  image  in  my  heart,  and  no  villain  can  ever  tear  it  thence." 

Joseph  desired  paper  and  pens,  to  write  a  letter,  but  they 
were  refused  him ;  and  he  was  advised  to  use  all  his  endea- 
vours to  compose  himself.  They  then  left  him ;  and  Mr  Tow- 
wouse  sent  to  a  clergyman  to  come  and  administer  his  good 
offices  to  the  soul  of  poor  Joseph,  since  the  surgeon  despaired 
of  making  any  successful  applications  to  his  body. 

Mr  Barnabas  (for  that  was  the  clergyman's  name)  came  as 
soon  as  sent  for;  and,  having  first  drank  a  dish  of  tea  with 
the  landlady,  and  afterwards  a  bowl  of  punch  with  the  land- 
lord, he  walked  up  to  the  room  where  Joseph  lay ;  but, 
finding  him  asleep,  returned  to  take  the  other  sneaker ;  which 
when  he  had  finished,  he  again  crept  softly  up  to  the  chamber- 
door,  and,  having  opened  it,  heard  the  sick  man  talking  to  him- 
self in  the  following  manner: 

"  O  most  adorable  Pamela !  most  virtuous  sister !  whose 
example  could  alone  enable  me  to  withstand  all  the  tempta- 
tions of  riches  and  beauty,  and  to  preserve  my  virtue  pure  and 
chaste  for  the  arms  of  my  dear  Fanny,  if  it  had  pleased 
Heaven  that  I  should  ever  have  come  unto  them.  What 
riches,  or  honours,  or  pleasures,  can  make  us  amends  for  the 
loss  of  innocence?  Doth  not  that  alone  afford  us  more  con- 
solation than  all  worldly  acquisitions?  What  but  innocence 
and  virtue  could  give  any  comfort  to  such  a  miserable  wretch 
as  I  am?  Yet  these  can  make  me  prefer  this  sick  and  pain- 
ful bed  to  all  the  pleasures  I  should  have  found  in  my  lady's. 
These  can  make  me  face  death  without  fear ;  and  though  I 
love  my  Fanny  more  than  ever  man  loved  a  woman,  these 
can  teach  me  to  resign  myself  to  the  Divine  will  without  re- 
pining. O,  thou  delightful  charming  creature !  if  Heaven 
had  indulged  thee  to  my  arms,  the  poorest,  humblest  state 
would  have  been  a  paradise ;  I  could  have  lived  with  thee  in 
the  lowest  cottage  without  envying  the  palaces,  the  dainties, 
or  the  riches  of  any  man  breathing.  But  I  must  leave  thee, 
leave  thee  for  ever,  my  dearest  angel !  I  must  think  of  an- 
other world ;  and  I  heartily  pray  thou  may'st  meet  comfort 
in  this." — Barnabas  thought  he  had  heard  enough,  so  down- 
stairs he  went,  and  told  Tow-wouse  he  could  do  his  guest  no 
service;  for  that  he  was  very  light-headed,  and  had  uttered 

42 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

nothing  but  a  rhapsody  of  nonsense  all  the  time  he  stayed  in 
the  room. 

The  surgeon  returned  in  the  afternoon,  and  found  his 
patient  in  a  higher  fever,  as  he  said,  than  when  he  left  him, 
though  not  delirious ;  for,  notwithstanding  Mr  Barnabas's 
opinion,  he  had  not  been  once  out  of  his  senses  since  his 
arrival  at  the  inn. 

Mr  Barnabas  was  again  sent  for,  and  with  much  difficulty 
prevailed  on  to  make  another  visit.  As  soon  as  he  entered 
the  room  he  told  Joseph  he  was  come  to  pray  by  him,  and 
to  prepare  him  for  another  world :  in  the  first  place,  there- 
fore, he  hoped  he  had  repented  of  all  his  sins.  Joseph  an- 
swered he  hoped  he  had ;  but  there  was  one  thing  which  he 
knew  not  whether  he  should  call  a  sin ;  if  it  was,  he  feared 
he  should  die  in  the  commission  of  it ;  and  that  was,  the  regret 
of  parting  with  a  young  woman  whom  he  loved  as  tenderly 
as  he  did  his  heart-strings.  Barnabas  bade  him  be  assured 
that  any  repining  at  the  Divine  will  was  one  of  the  greatest 
sins  he  could  commit ;  that  he  ought  to  forget  all  carnal  affec- 
tions, and  think  of  better  things.  Joseph  said,  that  neither 
in  this  world  nor  the  next  he  could  forget  his  Fanny ;  and 
that  the  thought,  however  grievous,  of  parting  from  her  for 
ever,  was  not  half  so  tormenting  as  the  fear  of  what  she 
would  suffer  when  she  knew  his  misfortune.  Barnabas  said, 
that  such  fears  argued  a  diffidence  and  despondence  very 
criminal ;  that  he  must  divest  himself  of  all  human  passions, 
and  fix  his  heart  above.  Joseph  answered,  that  was  what 
he  desired  to  do,  and  should  be  obliged  to  him  if  he  would 
enable  him  to  accomplish  it.  Barnabas  replied,  that  must  be 
done  by  grace.  Joseph  besought  him  to  discover  how  he 
might  attain  it.  Barnabas  answered,  by  prayer  and  faith.  He 
then  questioned  him  concerning  his  forgiveness  of  the  thieves. 
Joseph  answered,  he  feared  that  was  more  than  he  could  do; 
for  nothing  would  give  him  more  pleasure  than  to  hear  they 
were  taken.  "  That,"  cries  Barnabas,  "  is  for  the  sake  of  jus- 
tice."— "  Yes,"  said  Joseph,  "  but  if  T  was  to  meet  them  again, 
I  am  afraid  I  should  attack  them,  and  kill  them  too,  if  I  could." 
— "  Doubtless,"  answered  Barnabas,  "  it  is  lawful  to  kill  a 
thief;  but  can  you  say  you  forgive  them  as  a  Christian 
ought  ?  "    Joseph  desired  to  know  what  that  forgiveness  was. 

43 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

'  That  is,"  answered  Barnabas,  "  to  forgive  them  as — as — it 
is  to  forgive  them  as — in  short,  it  is  to  forgive  them  as  a 
Christian."  Joseph  replied,  he  forgave  them  as  much  as  he 
could. — "  Well,  well,"  said  Barnabas,  "  that  will  do."  He 
then  demanded  of  him,  if  he  remembered  any  more  sins  un- 
repented  of;  and  if  he  did,  he  desired  him  to  make  haste  and 
repent  of  them  as  fast  as  he  could,  that  they  might  repeat  over 
a  few  prayers  together.  Joseph  answered,  he  could  not  recol- 
lect any  great  crimes  he  had  been  guilty  of,  and  that  those 
he  had  committed  he  was  sincerely  sorry  for.  Barnabas  said 
that  was  enough,  and  then  proceeded  to  prayer  with  all  the 
expedition  he  was  master  of,  some  company  then  waiting  for 
him  below  in  the  parlour,  where  the  ingredients  for  punch 
were  all  in  readiness ;  but  no  one  would  squeeze  the  oranges 
till  he  came. 

Joseph  complained  he  was  dry,  and  desired  a  little  tea ; 
which  Barnabas  reported  to  Mrs  Tow-wouse,  who  answered, 
she  had  just  done  drinking  it,  and  could  not  be  slopping  all 
day ;  but  ordered  Betty  to  carry  him  up  some  small  beer. 

Betty  obeyed  her  mistress's  commands ;  but  Joseph,  as  soon 
as  he  had  tasted  it,  said,  he  feared  it  would  increase  his  fever, 
and  that  he  longed  very  much  for  tea ;  to  which  the  good- 
natured  Betty  answered,  he  should  have  tea,  if  there  was  any 
in  the  land ;  she  accordingly  went  and  bought  him  some  her- 
self, and  attended  him  with  it ;  where  we  will  leave  her  and 
Joseph  together  for  some  time,  to  entertain  the  reader  with 
other  matters. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

BEING   VERY    FULL    OF    ADVENTURES    WHICH    SUCCEEDED    EACH 

OTHER  AT  THE  END. 

IT  was  now  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  when  a  grave  person 
rode  into  the  inn,  and,  committing  his  horse  to  the  hostler, 
went  directly  into  the  kitchen,  and,  having  called  for  a  pipe 
of  tobacco,  took  his  place  by  the  fireside,  where  several  other 
persons  were  likewise  assembled. 

The  discourse  ran  altogether  on  the  robbery  which  was 

44 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

committed  the  night  before,  and  on  the  poor  wretch  who  lay 
above  in  the  dreadful  condition  in  which  we  have  already 
seen  him.  Mrs  Tow-wouse  said,  she  wondered  what  the  devil 
Tom  Whipwcll  meant  by  bringing  such  guests  to  her  house, 
when  there  were  so  many  alehouses  on  the  road  proper  for 
their  reception.  But  she  assured  him,  if  he  died,  the  parish 
should  be  at  the  expense  of  the  funeral.  She  added,  no- 
thing would  serve  the  fellow's  turn  but  tea,  she  would  assure 
him.  Betty,  who  was  just  returned  from  her  charitable  office, 
answered,  she  believed  he  was  a  gentleman,  for  she  never 
saw  a  finer  skin  in  her  life.  "  Pox  on  his  skin !  "  replied  Mrs 
Tow-wouse,  "  I  suppose  that  is  all  we  are  like  to  have  for 
the  reckoning.  I  desire  no  such  gentlemen  should  ever  call 
at  the  Dragon  "  (which  it  seems  was  the  sign  of  the  inn). 

The  gentleman  lately  arrived  discovered  a  great  deal  of 
emotion  at  the  distress  of  this  poor  creature,  whom  he  ob- 
served to  be  fallen  not  into  the  most  compassionate  hands. 
And  indeed,  if  Mrs  Tow-wouse  had  given  no  utterance  to  the 
sweetness  of  her  temper,  nature  had  taken  such  pains  in  her 
countenance,  that  Hogarth  himself  never  gave  more  expres- 
sion to  a  picture. 

Her  person  was  short,  thin,  and  crooked.  Her  forehead 
projected  in  the  middle,  and  thence  descended  in  a  declivity 
to  the  top  of  her  nose,  which  was  sharp  and  red,  and  would 
have  hung  over  her  lips,  had  not  nature  turned  up  the  end 
of  it.  Her  lips  were  two  bits  of  skin,  which,  whenever  she 
spoke,  she  drew  together  in  a  purse.  Her  chin  was  peaked ; 
and  at  the  upper  end  of  that  skin  which  composed  her  cheeks, 
stood  two  bones,  that  almost  hid  a  pair  of  small  red  eyes. 
Add  to  this  a  voice  most  wonderfully  adapted  to  the  senti- 
ments it  was  to  convey,  being  both  loud  and  hoarse. 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  whether  the  gentleman  had  conceived 
a  greater  dislike  for  his  landlady  or  compassion  for  her  un- 
happy guest.  He  inquired  very  earnestly  of  the  surgeon,  who 
was  now  come  into  the  kitchen,  whether  he  had  any  hopes  of 
his  recovery?  He  begged  him  to  use  all  possible  means 
towards  it,  telling  him,  it  was  the  duty  of  men  of  all  pro- 
fessions to  apply  their  skill  gratis  for  the  relief  of  the  poor 
and  necessitous.  The  surgeon  answered,  he  should  take 
proper  care;  but  he  defied  all  the  surgeons  in  London  to  do 

45 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

him  any  good. — "  Pray,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  what  are 
his  wounds?  " — "  Why,  do  you  know  anything  of  wounds?  " 
says  the  surgeon  (winking  upon  Mrs  Tow-wouse).  "Sir, 
I  have  a  small  smattering  in  surgery,"  answered  the  gentle- 
man. "  A  smattering, — ho,  ho,  ho !  "  said  the  surgeon ;  "  I 
believe  it  is  a  smattering  indeed." 

The  company  were  all  attentive,  expecting  to  hear  the  doc- 
tor, who  was  what  they  call  a  dry  fellow,  expose  the  gentle- 
man. 

He  began  therefore  with  an  air  of  triumph :  "  I  suppose, 
sir,  you  have  travelled  ?  " — "  No,  really,  sir,"  said  the  gentle- 
man. "  Ho !  then  you  have  practised  in  the  hospitals  per- 
haps ?  " — "  No,  sir." — "  Hum !  not  that  neither  ?  Whence,  sir, 
then,  if  I  may  be  so  bold  to  inquire,  have  you  got  your 
knowledge  in  surgery?  " — "  Sir,"  answered  the  gentleman,  "  I 
do  not  pretend  to  much ;  but  the  little  I  know  I  have  from 
books." — "  Books !  "  cries  the  doctor.  '  What,  I  suppose  you 
have  read  Galen  and  Hippocrates !  " — "  No,  sir,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman. "  How !  you  understand  surgery,"  answers  the  doc- 
tor, "and  not  read  Galen  and  Hippocrates?" — "Sir,"  cries 
the  other,  "  I  believe  there  are  many  surgeons  who  have  never 
read  these  authors." — "  I  believe  so  too,"  says  the  doctor, 
"  more  shame  for  them ;  but,  thanks  to  my  education,  I  have 
them  by  heart,  and  very  seldom  go  without  them  both  in  my 
pocket." — "  They  are  pretty  large  books,"  said  the  gentleman. 
"  Aye,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  believe  I  know  how  large  they 
are  better  than  you."  (At  which  he  fell  a  winking,  and  the 
whole  company  burst  into  a  laugh.) 

The  doctor  pursuing  his  triumph,  asked  the  gentleman,  if 
he  did  not  understand  physic  as  well  as  surgery.  "  Rather 
better,"  answered  the  gentleman.  "  Aye,  like  enough,"  cries 
the  doctor  with  a  wink.  '  Why,  I  know  a  little  of  physic 
too." — "  I  wish  I  knew  half  so  much,"  said  Tow-wouse,  "  I'd 
never  wear  an  apron  again." — "  Why,  I  believe,  landlord," 
cries  the  doctor,  "  there  are  few  men,  though  I  say  it,  within 
twelve  miles  of  the  place,  that  handle  a  fever  better. — Veni- 
ente  accurrite  morbo:  that  is  my  method.  I  suppose,  brother, 
you  understand  Latin?" — "A  little,"  says  the  gentleman. 
"  Ay,  and  Greek  now,  I'll  warrant  you :  Ton  dapomibominos 
poluftosboio  thalasses.    But  I  have  almost  forgot  these  things : 

46 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

I  could  have  repeated  Homer  by  heart  once." "  I  fags ! 

the  gentleman  has  caught  a  traitor,"  says  Mrs  Tow-wouse ; 
at  which  they  all  fell  a  laughing. 

The  gentleman,  who  had  not  the  least  affection  for  joking, 
very  contentedly  suffered  the  doctor  to  enjoy  his  victory, 
which  he  did  with  no  small  satisfaction;  and,  having  suffi- 
ciently sounded  his  depth,  told  him,  he  was  thoroughly  con- 
vinced of  his  great  learning  and  abilities;  and  that  he  would 
be  obliged  to  him  if  he  would  let  him  know  his  opinion  of  his 
patient's  case  above-stairs.  "  Sir,"  says  the  doctor,  "  his  case 
is  that  of  a  dead  man.  The  contusion  on  his  head  has  perfor- 
ated the  internal  membrane  of  the  occiput,  and  divellicated 
that  radical  small  minute  invisible  nerve  which  coheres  to  the 
pericranium ;  and  this  was  attended  with  a  fever  at  first  symp- 
tomatic, then  pneumatic ;  and  he  is  at  length  grown  deliruus, 
or  delirious,  as  the  vulgar  express  it." 

He  was  proceeding  in  this  learned  manner,  when  a  mighty 
noise  interrupted  him.  Some  young  fellows  in  the  neighbour- 
hood had  taken  one  of  the  thieves,  and  were  bringing  him 
into  the  inn.  Betty  ran  up-stairs  with  this  news  to  Joseph, 
who  begged  they  might  search  for  a  little  piece  of  broken 
gold,  which  had  a  ribbon  tied  to  it,  and  which  he  could  swear 
to  amongst  all  the  hoards  of  the  richest  men  in  the  universe. 

Notwithstanding  the  fellow's  persisting  in  his  innocence, 
the  mob  were  very  busy  in  searching  him,  and  presently, 
among  other  things,  pulled  out  the  piece  of  gold  just  men- 
tioned ;  which  Betty  no  sooner  saw  than  she  laid  violent  hands 
on  it,  and  conveyed  it  up  to  Joseph,  who  received  it  with  rap- 
tures of  joy,  and,  hugging  it  in  his  bosom,  declared  he  could 
now  die  contented. 

Within  a  few  minutes  afterwards  came  in  some  other  fel- 
lows, with  a  bundle  which  they  had  found  in  a  ditch,  and 
which  was  indeed  the  clothes  which  had  been  stripped  off 
from  Joseph,  and  the  other  things  they  had  taken  from  him. 

The  gentleman  no  sooner  saw  the  coat  than  he  declared  he 
knew  the  livery;  and,  if  it  had  been  taken  from  the  poor 
creature  above-stairs,  desired  he  might  see  him ;  for  that  he 
was  very  well  acquainted  with  the  family  to  whom  that  livery 
belonged. 

He  was  accordingly  conducted   up  by   Betty;  but  what, 

47 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

reader,  was  the  surprize  on  both  sides,  when  he  saw  Joseph 
was  the  person  in  bed,  and  when  Joseph  discovered  the  face 
of  his  good  friend  Mr  Abraham  Adams ! 

It  would  be  impertinent  to  insert  a  discourse  which  chiefly 
turned  on  the  relation  of  matters  already  well  known  to  the 
reader ;  for,  as  soon  as  the  curate  had  satisfied  Joseph  con- 
cerning the  perfect  health  of  his  Fanny,  he  was  on  his  side 
very  inquisitive  into  all  the  particulars  which  had  produced 
this  unfortunate  accident. 

To  return  therefore  to  the  kitchen,  where  a  great  variety 
of  company  were  now  assembled  from  all  the  rooms  of  the 
house,  as  well  as  the  neighbourhood :  so  much  delight  do  men 
take  in  contemplating  the  countenance  of  a  thief. 

Mr  Tow-wouse  began  to  rub  his  hands  with  pleasure  at 
seeing  so  large  an  assembly;  who  would,  he  hoped,  shortly 
adjourn  into  several  apartments,  in  order  to  discourse  over 
the  robbery,  and  drink  a  health  to  all  honest  men.  But  Mrs 
Tow-wouse,  whose  misfortune  it  was  commonly  to  see  things 
a  little  perversely,  began  to  rail  at  those  who  brought  the 
fellow  into  her  house ;  telling  her  husband,  they  were  very 
likely  to  thrive  who  kept  a  house  of  entertainment  for  beggars 
and  thieves. 

The  mob  had  now  finished  their  search,  and  could  find 
nothing  about  the  captive  likely  to  prove  any  evidence ;  for 
as  to  the  clothes,  though  the  mob  were  very  well  satisfied 
with  that  proof,  yet,  as  the  surgeon  observed,  they  could  not 
convict  him,  because  they  were  not  found  in  his  custody ;  to 
which  Barnabas  agreed,  and  added  that  these  were  bona 
waviata,  and  belonged  to  the  lord  of  the  manor. 

"  How,"  says  the  surgeon,  "  do  you  say  these  goods  belong 
to  the  lord  of  the  manor?  " — "  I  do,"  cried  Barnabas.  "  Then 
I  deny  it,"  says  the  surgeon  :  "  what  can  the  lord  of  the  manor 
have  to  do  in  the  case?  Will  any  one  attempt  to  persuade 
me  that  what  a  man  finds  is  not  his  own  ?  " — "  I  have  heard," 
sajs  an  old  fellow  in  the  corner,  "  justice  Wise-one  say,  that, 
if  every  man  had  his  right,  whatever  is  found  belongs  to  the 
king  of  London." — "  That  may  be  true,"  says  Barnabas,  "  in 
some  sense ;  for  the  law  makes  a  difference  between  things 
stolen  and  things  found ;  for  a  thing  may  be  stolen  that 
never  is  found,  and  a  thing  may  be  found  that  never  was 

48 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

stolen.  Now,  goods  that  are  both  stolen  and  found  are 
waviata;  and  they  belong  to  the  lord  of  the  manor." — "  So 
the  lord  of  the  manor  is  the  receiver  of  stolen  goods,"  says 
the  doctor ;  at  which  there  was  an  universal  laugh,  being  first 
begun  by  himself. 

While  the  prisoner,  by  persisting  in  his  innocence,  had  al- 
most (as  there  was  no  evidence  against  him)  brought  over 
Barnabas,  the  surgeon,  Tow-wouse,  and  several  others  to  his 
side,  Betty  informed  them  that  they  had  overlooked  a  little 
piece  of  gold,  which  she  had  carried  up  to  the  man  in  bed, 
and  which  he  offered  to  swear  to  amongst  a  million,  aye, 
amongst  ten  thousand.  This  immediately  turned  the  scale 
against  the  prisoner,  and  every  one  now  concluded  him 
guilty.  It  was  resolved,  therefore,  to  keep  him  secured  that 
night,  and  early  in  the  morning  to  carry  him  before  a  justice. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SHOWING  HOW  MRS  TOW-WOUSE  WAS  A  LITTLE  MOLLIFIED; 
AND  HOW  OFFICIOUS  MR  BARNABAS  AND  THE  SURGEON  WERE 
TO  PROSECUTE  THE  THIEF  :  WITH  A  DISSERTATION  ACCOUNT- 
ING FOR  THEIR  ZEAL,  AND  THAT  OF  MANY  OTHER  PERSONS 
NOT  MENTIONED  IN  THIS  HISTORY. 

BETTY  told  her  mistress  she  believed  the  man  in  bed  was 
a  greater  man  than  they  took  him  for ;  for,  besides  the 
extreme  whiteness  of  his  skin,  and  the  softness  of  his  hands, 
she  observed  a  very  great  familiarity  between  the  gentleman 
and  him ;  and  added,  she  was  certain  they  were  intimate  ac- 
quaintance, if  not  relations. 

This  somewhat  abated  the  severity  of  Mrs  Tow-wouse's 
countenance.  She  said,  God  forbid  she  should  not  discharge 
the  duty  of  a  Christian,  since  the  poor  gentleman  was  brought 
to  her  house.  She  had  a  natural  antipathy  to  vagabonds ; 
but  could  pity  the  misfortunes  of  a  Christian  as  soon  as  an- 
other. Tow-wouse  said,  "  If  the  traveller  be  a  gentleman, 
though  he  hath  no  money  about  him  now,  we  shall  most 
likely  be  paid  hereafter;  so  you  may  begin  to  score  when- 

4  49 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

ever  you  will."  Mrs  Tow-wouse  answered,  "  Hold  your  sim- 
ple tongue,  and  don't  instruct  me  in  my  business.  I  am  sure 
I  am  sorry  for  the  gentleman's  misfortune  with  all  my  heart ; 
and  I  hope  the  villain  who  hath  used  him  so  barbarously 
will  be  hanged.  Betty,  go  see  what  he  wants.  God  forbid 
he  should  want  any  thing  in  my  house."    ■ 

Barnabas  and  the  surgeon  went  up  to  Joseph  to  satisfy 
themselves  concerning  the  piece  of  gold ;  Joseph  was  with 
difficulty  prevailed  upon  to  show  it  them,  but  would  by  no  en- 
treaties be  brought  to  deliver  it  out  of  his  own  possession. 
He  however  attested  this  to  be  the  same  which  had  been  taken 
from  him,  and  Betty  was  ready  to  swear  to  the  finding  it  on 
the  thief. 

The  only  difficulty  that  remained  was,  how  to  produce  this 
gold  before  the  justice ;  for  as  to  carrying  Joseph  himself,  it 
seemed  impossible ;  nor  was  there  any  great  likelihood  of  ob- 
taining it  from  him,  for  he  had  fastened  it  with  a  ribband  to 
his  arm,  and  solemnly  vowed  that  nothing  but  irresistible  force 
should  ever  separate  them ;  in  which  resolution,  Mr  Adams, 
clenching  a  fist  rather  less  than  the  knuckle  of  an  ox,  de- 
clared he  would  support  him. 

A  dispute  arose  on  this  occasion  concerning  evidence  not 
very  necessary  to  be  related  here ;  after  which  the  surgeon 
dressed  Mr  Joseph's  head,  still  persisting  in  the  imminent 
danger  in  which  his  patient  lay,  but  concluding,  with  a  very 
important  look,  that  he  began  to  have  some  hopes ;  that  he 
should  send  him  a  sanative  soporiferous  draught,  and  would 
see  him  in  the  morning.  After  which  Barnabas  and  he  de- 
parted, and  left  Mr  Joseph  and  Mr  Adams  together. 

Adams  informed  Joseph  of  the  occasion  of  this  journey 
which  he  was  making  to  London,  namely,  to  publish  three 
volumes  of  sermons ;  being  encouraged,  as  he  said,  by  an 
advertisement  lately  set  forth  by  a  society  of  booksellers,  who 
proposed  to  purchase  any  copies  offered  to  them,  at  a  price 
to  be  settled  by  two  persons ;  but  though  he  imagined  he 
should  get  a  considerable  sum  of  money  on  this  occasion, 
which  his  family  were  in  urgent  need  of,  he  protested  he 
would  not  leave  Joseph  in  his  present  condition :  finally,  he 
told  him,  he  had  nine  shillings  and  three  pence  halfpenny 
in  his  pocket,  which  he  was  welcome  to  use  as  he  pleased. 

5° 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

This  goodness  of  parson  Adams  brought  tears  into  Joseph's 
eyes ;  he  declared,  he  had  now  a  second  reason  to  desire  life, 
that  he  might  show  his  gratitude  to  such  a  friend.  Adams 
bade  him  be  cheerful ;  for  that  he  plainly  saw  the  surgeon, 
besides  his  ignorance,  desired  to  make  a  merit  of  curing  him, 
though  the  wounds  in  his  head,  he  perceived,  were  by  no 
means  dangerous ;  that  he  was  convinced  he  had  no  fever,  and 
doubted  not  but  he  would  be  able  to  travel  in  a  day  or  two. 

These  words  infused  a  spirit  into  Joseph ;  he  said,  he  found 
himself  very  sore  from  the  bruises,  but  had  no  reason  to 
think  any  of  his  bones  injured,  or  that  he  had  received  any 
harm  in  his  inside,  unless  that  he  felt  something  very  odd 
in  his  stomach ;  but  he  knew  not  whether  that  might  not 
arise  from  not  having  eaten  one  morsel  for  above  twenty-four 
hours.  Being  then  asked  if  he  had  any  inclination  to  eat, 
he  answered  in  the  affirmative.  Then  parson  Adams  desired 
him  to  name  what  he  had  the  greatest  fancy  for;  whether 
a  poached  egg,  or  chicken-broth.  He  answered,  he  could  eat 
both  very  well ;  but  that  he  seemed  to  have  the  greatest  appe- 
tite for  a  piece  of  boiled  beef  and  cabbage. 

Adams  was  pleased  with  so  perfect  a  confirmation  that  he 
had  not  the  least  fever,  but  advised  him  to  a  lighter  diet  for 
that  evening.  He  accordingly  ate  either  a  rabbit  or  a  fowl, 
I  never  could  with  any  tolerable  certainty  discover  which ; 
after  this  he  was,  by  Mrs  Tow-wouse's  order,  conveyed  into 
a  better  bed  and  equipped  with  one  of  her  husband's  shirts. 

In  the  morning  early,  Barnabas  and  the  surgeon  came  to 
the  inn,  in  order  to  see  the  thief  conveyed  before  the  justice. 
They  had  consumed  the  whole  night  in  debating  what  mea- 
sures they  should  take  to  produce  the  piece  of  gold  in  evidence 
against  him ;  for  they  were  both  extremely  zealous  in  the 
business,  though  neither  of  them  were  in  the  least  interested 
in  the  prosecution;  neither  of  them  had  ever  received  any 
private  injury  from  the  fellow,  nor  had  either  of  them  ever 
been  suspected  of  loving  the  public  well  enough  to  give  them 
a  sermon  or  a  dose  of  physic  for  nothing. 

To  help  our  reader,  therefore,  as  much  as  possible  to  ac- 
count for  this  zeal,  we  must  inform  him  that,  as  this  parish 
was  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  no  lawyer  in  it,  there  had  been 
a  constant  contention  between  the  two  doctors,  spiritual  and 

5i 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

physical,  concerning  their  abilities  in  a  science,  in  whicn, 
as  neither  of  them  professed  it,  they  had  equal  pretensions 
to  dispute  each  other's  opinions.  These  disputes  were  carried 
on  with  great  contempt  on  both  sides,  and  had  almost  divided 
the  parish ;  Mr  Tow-wouse  and  one  half  of  the  neighbours 
inclining  to  the  surgeon,  and  Mrs  Tow-wouse  with  the  other 
half  to  the  parson.  The  surgeon  drew  his  knowledge  from 
those  inestimable  fountains,  called  The  Attorney's  Pocket 
Companion,  and  Mr  Jacob's  Law-Tables ;  Barnabas  trusted 
entirely  to  Wood's  Institutes.  It  happened  on  this  occasion, 
as  was  pretty  frequently  the  case,  that  these  two  learned  men 
differed  about  the  sufficiency  of  evidence ;  the  doctor  being  of 
opinion  that  the  maid's  oath  would  convict  the  prisoner  with- 
out producing  the  gold ;  the  parson,  c  contra,  totis  viribus. 
To  display  their  parts,  therefore,  before  the  justice  and  the 
parish,  was  the  sole  motive  which  we  can  discover  to  this 
zeal  which  both  of  them  pretended  to  have  for  public  justice. 

0  Vanity !  how  little  is  thy  force  acknowledged,  or  thy 
operations  discerned !  How  wantonly  dost  thou  deceive  man- 
kind under  different  disguises !  Sometimes  thou  dost  wear 
the  face  of  pity,  sometimes  of  generosity :  nay,  thou  hast  the 
assurance  even  to  put  on  those  glorious  ornaments  which  be- 
long only  to  heroic  virtue.  Thou  odious,  deformed  monster ! 
whom  priests  have  railed  at,  philosophers  despised,  and  poets 
ridiculed ;  is  there  a  wretch  so  abandoned  as  to  own  thee  for 
an  acquaintance  in  public? — yet,  how  few  will  refuse  to  en- 
joy thee  in  private?  nay,  thou  art  the  pursuit  of  most  men 
through  their  lives.  The  greatest  villainies  are  daily  prac- 
tised to  please  thee ;  nor  is  the  meanest  thief  below,  or  the 
greatest  hero  above,  thy  notice.  Thy  embraces  are  often  the 
sole  aim  and  sole  reward  of  the  private  robbery  and  the  plun- 
dered province.  It  is  to  pamper  up  thee,  thou  harlot,  that  we 
attempt  to  withdraw  from  others  what  we  do  not  want,  or  to 
withhold  from  them  what  they  do.  All  our  passions  are  thy 
slaves.  Avarice  itself  is  often  no  more  than  thy  handmaid, 
and  even  Lust  thy  pimp.  The  bully  Fear,  like  a  coward,  flies 
before  thee,  and  Joy  and  Grief  hide  their  heads  in  thy  presence. 

1  know  thou  wilt  think  that  whilst  I  abuse  thee  I  court  thee, 
and  that  thy  love  hath  inspired  me  to  write  this  sarcastical 
panegyric  on  thee ;  but  thou  art  deceived :  I  value  thee  not 

52 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

of  a  farthing;  nor  will  it  give  me  any  pain  if  thou  shouldst 
prevail  on  the  reader  to  censure  this  digression  as  arrant 
nonsense ;  for  know,  to  thy  confusion,  that  I  have  introduced 
thee  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  lengthen  out  a  short  chap- 
ter, and  so  I  return  to  my  history. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  ESCAPE  OF  THE  THIEF.  MR  ADAMS'S  DISAPPOINTMENT. 
THE  ARRIVAL  OF  TWO  VERY  EXTRAORDINARY  PERSONAGES, 
AND  THE  INTRODUCTION  OF  PARSON  ADAMS  TO  PARSON  BAR- 
NABAS. 

BARNABAS  and  the  surgeon,  being  returned,  as  we  have 
said,  to  the  inn,  in  order  to  convey  the  thief  before  the 
justice,  were  greatly  concerned  to  find  a  small  accident  had 
happened,  which  somewhat  disconcerted  them;  and  this  was 
no  other  than  the  thief's  escape,  who  had  modestly  withdrawn 
himself  by  night,  declining  all  ostentation,  and  not  choosing, 
in  imitation  of  some  great  men,  to  distinguish  himself  at  the 
expense  of  being  pointed  at. 

When  the  company  had  retired  the  evening  before,  the 
thief  was  detained  in  a  room  where  the  constable,  and  one  of 
the  young  fellows  who  took  him,  were  planted  as  his  guard. 
About  the  second  watch  a  general  complaint  of  drought  was 
made,  both  by  the  prisoner  and  his  keepers.  Among  whom 
it  was  at  last  agreed  that  the  constable  should  remain  on  duty, 
and  the  young  fellow  call  up  the  tapster;  in  which  disposi- 
tion the  latter  apprehended  not  the  least  danger,  as  the  con- 
stable was  well  armed,  and  could  besides  easily  summon  him 
back  to  his  assistance,  if  the  prisoner  made  the  least  attempt 
to  gain  his  liberty. 

The  young  fellow  had  not  long  left  the  room  before  it  came 
into  the  constable's  head  that  the  prisoner  might  leap  on  him 
by  surprize,  and,  thereby  preventing  him  of  the  use  of  his 
weapons,  especially  the  long  staff  in  which  he  chiefly  confided, 
might  reduce  the  success  of  a  struggle  to  an  equal  chance. 

53 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

He  wisely,  therefore,  to  prevent  this  inconvenience,  slipt  out 
of  the  room  himself,  and  locked  the  door,  waiting  without 
with  his  staff  in  his  hand,  ready  lifted  to  fell  the  unhappy 
prisoner,  if  by  ill  fortune  he  should  attempt  to  break  out. 

But  human  life,  as  hath  been  discovered  by  some  great 
man  or  other  (for  I  would  by  no  means  be  understood  to 
affect  the  honour  of  making  any  such  discovery),  very  much 
resembles  a  game  of  chess ;  for  as  in  the  latter,  while  a  game- 
ster is  too  attentive  to  secure  himself  very  strongly  on  one 
side  the  board,  he  is  apt  to  leave  an  unguarded  opening  on  the 
other ;  so  doth  it  often  happen  in  life,  and  so  did  it  happen 
on  this  occasion ;  for  whilst  the  cautious  constable  with  such 
wonderful  sagacity  had  possessed  himself  of  the  door,  he  most 
unhappily  forgot  the  window. 

The  thief,  who  played  on  the  other  side,  no  sooner  per- 
ceived this  opening  than  he  began  to  move  that  way ;  and, 
finding  the  passage  easy,  he  took  with  him  the  young  fellow's 
hat,  and  without  any  ceremony  stepped  into  the  street  and 
made  the  best  of  his  way. 

The  young  fellow,  returning  with  a  double  mug  of  strong 
beer,  was  a  little  surprized  to  find  the  constable  at  the  door; 
but  much  more  so  when,  the  door  being  opened,  he  perceived 
the  prisoner  had  made  his  escape,  and  which  way.  He  threw 
down  the  beer,  and  without  uttering  anything  to  the  consta- 
ble except  a  hearty  curse  or  two,  he  nimbly  leapt  out  of  the 
window,  and  went  again  in  pursuit  of  his  prey,  being  very 
unwilling  to  lose  the  reward  which  he  had  assured  himself  of. 

The  constable  hath  not  been  discharged  of  suspicion  on  this 
account ;  it  hath  been  said  that,  not  being  concerned  in  the 
taking  the  thief,  he  could  not  have  been  entitled  to  any 
part  of  the  reward  if  he  had  been  convicted ;  that  the  thief 
had  several  guineas  iu  his  pocket ;  that  it  was  very  unlikely 
he  should  have  been  guilty  of  such  an  oversight ;  that  his 
pretence  for  leaving  the  room  was  absurd ;  that  it  was  his 
constant  maxim,  that  a  wise  man  never  refused  money  on 
any  conditions ;  that  at  every  election  he  always  had  sold  his 
vote  to  both  parties,  &c. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  and  many  other  such  allegations, 
I  am  sufficiently  convinced  of  his  innocence ;  having  been 
positively  assured  of  it  by  those  who  received  their  informa- 

54 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

tions  from  his  own  mouth ;  which,  in  the  opinion  of  some 
moderns,  is  the  best  and  indeed  only  evidence. 

All  the  family  were  now  up,  and  with  many  others  assembled 
in  the  kitchen,  where  Mr  Tow-wouse  was  in  some  tribulation; 
the  surgeon  having  declared  that  by  law  he  was  liable  to  be 
indicted  for  the  thief's  escape,  as  it  was  out  of  his  house ;  he 
was  a  little  comforted,  however,  by  Mr  Barnabas's  opinion, 
that  as  the  escape  was  by  night  the  indictment  would  not  lie. 

Mrs  Tow-wouse  delivered  herself  in  the  following  words : 
"  Sure  never  was  such  a  fool  as  my  husband ;  would  any 
other  person  living  have  left  a  man  in  the  custody  of  such  a 
drunken  drowsy  blockhead  as  Tom  Suckbribe?  "  (which  was 
the  constable's  name)  ;  "  and  if  he  could  be  indicted  without 
any  harm  to  his  wife  and  children,  I  should  be  glad  of  it." 
(Then  the  bell  rung  in  Joseph's  room.)  '  Why  Betty,  John, 
chamberlain,  where  the  devil  are  you  all  ?  Have  you  no 
ears,  or  no  conscience,  not  to  tend  the  sick  better?  See  what 
the  gentleman  wants.  Why  don't  you  go  yourself,  Mr  Tow- 
wouse  ?  But  any  one  may  die  for  you ;  you  have  no  more 
feeling  than  a  deal  board.  If  a  man  lived  a  fortnight  in  your 
house  without  spending  a  penny,  you  would  never  put  him 
in  mind  of  it.  See  whether  he  drinks  tea  or  coffee  for  break- 
fast." "  Yes,  my  dear,"  cried  Tow-wouse.  She  then  asked 
the  doctor  and  Mr  Barnabas  what  morning's  draught  they 
chose,  who  answered,  they  had  a  pot  of  cider,  and  at  the  fire ; 
which  we  will  leave  them  merry  over,  and  return  to  Joseph. 

He  had  rose  pretty  early  this  morning;  but,  though  his 
wounds  were  far  from  threatening  any  danger,  he  was  so 
sore  with  the  bruises,  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  think 
of  undertaking  a  journey  yet;  Mr  Adams,  therefore,  whose 
stock  was  visibly  decreased  with  the  expenses  of  supper  and 
breakfast,  and  which  could  not  survive  that  day's  scoring, 
began  to  consider  how  it  was  possible  to  recruit  it.  At  last  he 
cried,  he  had  luckily  hit  on  a  sure  method,  and,  though  it 
would  oblige  him  to  return  himself  home  together  with  Joseph, 
it  mattered  not  much.  He  then  sent  for  Tow-wouse,  and, 
taking  him  into  another  room,  told  him  he  wanted  to  borrow 
three  guineas,  for  which  he  would  put  ample  security  into 
his  hands.  Tow-wouse,  who  expected  a  watch,  or  ring,  or 
something  of  double  the  value,  answered,  he  believed  he  could 

55 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

furnish  him.  Upon  which  Adams,  pointing  to  his  saddle-bag, 
told  him  with  a  face  and  voice  full  of  solemnity,  that  there 
were  in  that  bag  no  less  than  nine  volumes  of  manuscript  ser- 
mons, as  well  worth  a  hundred  pounds  as  a  shilling  was 
worth  twelve  pence,  and  that  he  would  deposit  one  of  the  vol- 
umes in  his  hands  by  way  of  pledge ;  not  doubting  but  that  he 
would  have  the  honesty  to  return  it  on  his  payment  of  the 
money ;  for  otherwise  he  must  be  a  very  great  loser,  seeing 
that  every  volume  would  at  least  bring  him  ten  pounds,  as  he 
had  been  informed  by  a  neighbouring  clergyman  in  the  coun- 
try ;  for,  said  he,  as  to  my  own  part,  having  never  yet  dealt 
in  printing,  I  do  not  pretend  to  ascertain  the  exact  value  of 
such  things. 

Tow-wouse,  who  was  a  little  surprized  at  the  pawn,  said 
(and  not  without  some  truth),  that  he  was  no  judge  of  the 
price  of  such  kind  of  goods ;  and  as  for  money,  he  really  was 
very  short.  Adams  answered,  certainly  he  would  not  scruple 
to  lend  him  three  guineas  on  what  was  undoubtedly  worth 
at  least  ten.  The  landlord  replied,  he  did  not  believe  he  had 
so  much  money  in  the  house,  and  besides,  he  was  to  make  up 
a  sum.  He  was  very  confident  the  books  were  of  much  higher 
value,  and  heartily  sorry  it  did  not  suit  him.  He  then  cried 
out,  "  Coming,  sir !  "  though  nobody  called ;  and  ran  down- 
stairs without  any  fear  of  breaking  his  neck. 

Poor  Adams  was  extremely  dejected  at  this  disappointment, 
nor  knew  he  what  further  stratagem  to  try.  He  immediately 
applied  to  his  pipe,  his  constant  friend  and  comfort  in  his 
afflictions ;  and,  leaning  over  the  rails,  he  devoted  himself  to 
meditation,  assisted  by  the  inspiring  fumes  of  tobacco. 

He  had  on  a  nightcap  drawn  over  his  wig,  and  a  short 
great  coat,  which  half  covered  his  cassock, — a  dress  which, 
added  to  something  comical  enough  in  his  countenance,  com- 
posed a  figure  likely  to  attract  the  eyes  of  those  who  were  not 
over  given  to  observation. 

Whilst  he  was  smoking  his  pipe  in  this  posture,  a  coach  and 
six,  with  a  numerous  attendance,  drove  into  the  inn.  There 
alighted  from  the  coach  a  young  fellow  and  a  brace  of  point- 
ers, after  which  another  young  fellow  leapt  from  the  box, 
and  shook  the  former  by  the  hand  ;  and  both,  together  with  the 
dogs,  were  instantly  conducted  by  Mr  Tow-wouse  into  an 

56 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

apartment ;  whither  as  they  passed,  they  entertained  them- 
selves with  the  following  short  facetious  dialogue : — 

'  You  are  a  pretty  fellow  for  a  coachman,  Jack !  "  says  he 
from  the  coach ;  "  you  had  almost  overturned  us  just  now." — 
"  Pox  take  you !  "  says  the  coachman ;  "  if  I  had  only  broke 
your  neck,  it  would  have  been  saving  somebody  else  the 
trouble ;  but  I  should  have  been  sorry  for  the  pointers." — 
"  Why,  you  son  of  a  b — ,"  answered  the  other,  "  if  nobody 
could  shoot  better  than  you,  the  pointers  would  be  of  no  use." 
— "  D — n  me,"  says  the  coachman,  "  I  will  shoot  with  you 
five  guineas  a  shot." — "  You  be  hanged,"  says  the  other ;  "  for 
five  guineas  you  shall  shoot  at  my  a — ."  "  Done,"  says  the 
coachman ;  "  I'll  pepper  you  better  than  ever  you  was  pep- 
pered by  Jenny  Bouncer." — "  Pepper  your  grandmother," 
says  the  other :  "  Here  's  Tow-wouse  will  let  you  shoot  at 
him  for  a  shilling  a-time." — "  I  know  his  honour  better,"  cries 
Tow-wouse ;  't  I  never  saw  a  surer  shot  at  a  partridge. 
Every  man  misses  now  and  then ;  but  if  I  could  shoot  half  as 
well  as  his  honour,  I  would  desire  no  better  livelihood  than  I 
could  get  by  my  gun." — "  Pox  on  you,"  said  the  coachman, 
"  you  demolish  more  game  now  than  your  head's  worth. 
There's  a  bitch,  Tow-wouse :  by  G —  she  never  blinked*  a 
bird  in  her  life." — "  I  have  a  puppy,  not  a  year  old,  shall 
hunt  with  her  for  a  hundred,"  cries  the  other  gentleman. — 
"  Done,"  says  the  coachman :  "  but  you  will  be  pox'd  before 
you  make  the  bet."  "  If  you  have  a  mind  for  a  bet,"  cries  the 
coachman,  "  I  will  match  my  spotted  dog  with  your  white 
bitch  for  a  hundred,  play  or  pay."  "  Done,"  says  the  other : 
"  and  I'll  run  Baldface  against  Slouch  with  you  for  another." 
— "  No,"  cries  he  from  the  box ;  "  but  I'll  venture  Miss  Jenny 
against  Baldface,  or  Hannibal  either." — "  Go  to  the  devil," 
cries  he  from  the  coach :  "  I  will  make  every  bet  your  own 
way,  to  be  sure !  I  will  match  Hannibal  with  Slouch  for  a 
thousand,  if  you  dare;  and  I  say  done  first." 

They  were  now  arrived ;  and  the  reader  will  be  very  con- 
tented to  leave  them,  and  repair  to  the  kitchen ;  where  Bar- 
nabas, the  surgeon,  and  an  exciseman  were  smoking  their 
pipes  over   some  cider-and ;   and   where   the   servants,   who 

*  To  blink  is  a  term  used  to  signify  the  dog's  passing  by  a  bird 
without  pointing  at  it. 

57 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

attended  the  two  noble  gentlemen  we  have  just  seen  alight, 
were  now  arrived. 

'  Tom,"  cries  one  of  the  footmen,  "  there's  parson  Adams 
smoking  his  pipe  in  the  gallery."  "Yes,"  says  Tom;  "I 
pulled  off  my  hat  to  him,  and  the  parson  spoke  to  me." 

"  Is  the  gentleman  a  clergyman,  then?  "  says  Barnabas  (for 
his  cassock  had  been  tied  up  when  he  first  arrived).  "Yes, 
sir,"  answered  the  footman ;  "  and  one  there  be  but  few  like." 
— "  Aye,"  said  Barnabas  :  "  if  I  had  known  it  sooner,  I  should 
have  desired  his  company;  I  would  always  show  a  proper 
respect  for  the  cloth :  but  what  say  you,  doctor,  shall  we  ad- 
journ into  a  room,  and  invite  him  to  take  part  of  a  bowl  of 
punch  ?  " 

This  proposal  was  immediately  agreed  to  and  executed ; 
and  parson  Adams  accepting  the  invitation,  much  civility 
passed  between  the  two  clergymen,  who  both  declared  the 
great  honour  they  had  for  the  cloth.  They  had  not  been 
long  together  before  they  entered  into  a  discourse  on  small 
tithes,  which  continued  a  full  hour,  without  the  doctor  or 
exciseman's  having  one  opportunity  to  offer  a  word. 

It  was  then  proposed  to  begin  a  general  conversation,  and 
the  exciseman  opened  on  foreign  affairs ;  but  a  word  un- 
luckily dropping  from  one  of  them  introduced  a  dissertation 
on  the  hardships  suffered  by  the  inferior  clergy ;  which,  after 
a  long  duration,  concluded  with  bringing  the  nine  volumes 
of  sermons  on  the  carpet. 

Barnabas  greatly  discouraged  poor  Adams ;  he  said,  the 
age  was  so  wicked,  that  nobody  read  sermons.  "  Would  you 
think  it,  Mr  Adams  ?  "  said  he,  "  I  once  intended  to  print  a 
volume  of  sermons  myself,  and  they  had  the  approbation  of 
two  or  three  bishops;  but  what  do  you  think  a  bookseller 
offered  me  ?  " — "  Twelve  guineas  perhaps,"  cried  Adams, 
"  Xot  twelve  pence,  I  assure  you,"  answered  Barnabas :  "  nay, 
the  dog  refused  me  a  concordance  in  exchange.  At  last  I 
offered  to  give  him  the  printing  them,  for  the  sake  of  dedi- 
cating them  to  that  very  gentleman  who  just  now  drove  bis 
own  coach  into  the  inn ;  and,  I  assure  you,  he  had  the  im- 
pudence to  refuse  my  offer;  by  which  means  I  lost  a  good 
living,  that  was  afterward  given  away  in  exchange  for  a 
pointer,  to  one  who — but  I  will  not  say  anything  against  the 

58 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

cloth.  So  you  may  guess,  Mr  Adams,  what  you  are  to  ex- 
pect ;  for  if  sermons  would  have  gone  down,  I  believe — I 
will  not  be  vain ;  but  to  be  concise  with  you,  three  bishops 
said  they  were  the  best  that  ever  were  writ :  but  indeed  there 
are  a  pretty  moderate  number  printed  already,  and  not  all  sold 
yet." — "  Pray,  sir,"  said  Adams,  "  to  what  do  you  think  the 
numbers  may  amount?" — "Sir,"  answered  Barnabas,  "a 
bookseller  told  me,  he  believed  five  thousand  volumes  at 
least." — "  Five  thousand  !  "  quoth  the  surgeon  :  "  What  can 
they  be  writ  upon  ?  I  remember,  when  I  was  a  boy,  I  used  to 
read  one  of  Tillotson's  sermons  ;  and,  I  am  sure,  if  a  man  prac- 
tised half  so  much  as  is  in  one  of  those  sermons,  he  will  go  to 
heaven." — "  Doctor,"  cried  Barnabas,  "  you  have  a  profane 
way  of  talking,  for  which  I  must  reprove  you.  A  man  can 
never  have  his  duty  too  frequently  inculcated  in  him.  And 
as  for  Tillotson,  to  be  sure  he  was  a  good  writer,  and  said 
things  very  well ;  but  comparisons  are  odious ;  another  man 

may  write  as  well  as  he 1  believe  there  are  some  of  my 

sermons," and  then  he  applied  the  candle  to  his  pipe. — 

"  And  I  believe  there  are  some  of  my  discourses,"  cries 
Adams,  "  which  the  bishops  would  not  think  totally  un- 
worthy of  being  printed;  and  I  have  been  informed  I  might 
procure  a  very  large  sum  (indeed  an  immense  one)  on  them." 
— "  I  doubt  that,"  answered  Barnabas :  "  however,  if  you  de- 
sire to  make  some  money  of  them,  perhaps  you  may  sell 
them  by  advertising  the  manuscript  sermons  of  a  clergyman 
lately  deceased,  all  warranted  originals,  and  never  printed. 
And  now  I  think  of  it,  I  should  be  obliged  to  you,  if  there 
be  ever  a  funeral  one  among  them,  to  lend  it  me ;  for  I  am 
this  very  day  to  preach  a  funeral  sermon,  for  which  I  have 
not  penned  a  line,  though  I  am  to  have  a  double  price." 
Adams  answered  he  had  but  one,  which  he  feared  would 
not  serve  his  purpose,  being  sacred  to  the  memory  of  a 
magistrate,  who  had  exerted  himself  very  singularly  in  the 
preservation  of  the  morality  of  his  neighbours,  insomuch  that 
he  had  neither  alehouse  nor  lewd  woman  in  the  parish  where 
he  lived. — "  No,"  replied  Barnabas,  "  that  will  not  do  quite 
so  well ;  for  the  deceased,  upon  whose  virtues  I  am  to  ha- 
rangue, was  a  little  too  much  addicted  to  liquor,  and  publicly 
kept  a  mistress. 1  believe  I  must  take  a  common  sermon, 

59 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  trust  to  my  memory  to  introduce  something  handsome 
on  him." — "To  your  invention  rather,"  said  the  doctor: 
"  your  memory  will  be  apter  to  put  you  out;  for  no  man 
living  remembers  anything  good  of  him." 

With  such  kind  of  spiritual  discourse,  they  emptied  the 
bowl  of  punch,  paid  their  reckoning,  and  separated :  Adams 
and  the  doctor  went  up  to  Joseph,  parson  Barnabas  departed 
to  celebrate  the  aforesaid  deceased,  and  the  exciseman  de- 
scended into  the  cellar  to  gauge  the  vessels. 

Joseph  was  now  ready  to  sit  down  to  a  loin  of  mutton,  and 
waited  for  Mr  Adams,  when  he  and  the  doctor  came  in. 
The  doctor  having  felt  his  pulse  and  examined  his  wounds, 
declared  him  much  better,  which  he  imputed  to  that  sana- 
tive soporiferous  draught,  a  medicine  whose  virtues,  he  said, 
were  never  to  be  sufficiently  extolled.  And  great  indeed  they 
must  be,  if  Joseph  was  so  much  indebted  to  them  as  the  doc- 
tor imagined;  since  nothing  more  than  those  effluvia  which 
escaped  the  cork  could  have  contributed  to  his  recovery ;  for 
the  medicine  had  stood  untouched  in  the  window  ever  since 
its  arrival. 

Joseph  passed  that  day,  and  the  three  following,  with  his 
friend  Adams,  in  which  nothing  so  remarkable  happened  as 
the  swift  progress  of  his  recovery.  As  he  had  an  excellent 
habit  of  body,  his  wounds  were  now  almost  healed ;  and  his 
bruises  gave  him  so  little  uneasiness,  that  he  pressed  Mr 
Adams  to  let  him  depart ;  told  him  he  should  never  be  able 
to  return  sufficient  thanks  for  all  his  favours,  but  begged 
that  he  might  no  longer  delay  his  journey  to  London. 

Adams,  notwithstanding  the  ignorance,  as  he  conceived  it, 
of  Mr  Tow-wouse,  and  the  envy  (for  such  he  thought  it)  of 
Mr  Barnabas,  had  great  expectations  from  his  sermons :  see- 
ing therefore  Joseph  in  so  good  a  way,  he  told  him  he  would 
agree  to  his  setting  out  the  next  morning  in  the  stage-coach, 
that  he  believed  he  should  have  sufficient,  after  the  reckoning 
paid,  to  procure  him  one  day's  conveyance  in  it,  and  after- 
wards he  would  be  able  to  get  on  on  foot,  or  might  be  fa- 
voured with  a  lift  in  some  neighbour's  waggon,  especially  as 
there  was  then  to  be  a  fair  in  the  town  whither  the  coach 
would  carry  him,  to  which  numbers  from  his  parish  resorted. 
— And  as  to  himself,  he  agreed  to  proceed  to  the  great  city. 

60 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

They  were  now  walking  in  the  inn-yard,  when  a  fat,  fair, 
short  person  rode  in,  and,  alighting  from  his  horse,  went 
directly  up  to  Barnabas,  who  was  smoking  his  pipe  on  a 
bench.  The  parson  and  the  stranger  shook  one  another  very 
lovingly  by  the  hand,  and  went  into  a  room  together. 

The  evening  now  coming  on,  Joseph  retired  to  his  cham- 
ber, whither  the  good  Adams  accompanied  him,  and  took  this 
opportunity  to  expatiate  on  the  great  mercies  God  had  lately 
shown  him,  of  which  he  ought  not  only  to  have  the  deepest 
inward  sense,  but  likewise  to  express  outward  thankfulness 
for  them.  They  therefore  fell  both  on  their  knees,  and  spent 
a  considerable  time  in  prayer  and  thanksgiving. 

They  had  just  finished  when  Betty  came  in  and  told  Mr 
Adams  Mr  Barnabas  desired  to  speak  to  him  on  some  busi- 
ness of  consequence  below-stairs.  Joseph  desired,  if  it  was 
likely  to  detain  him  long,  he  would  let  him  know  it,  that  he 
might  go  to  bed,  which  Adams  promised,  and  in  that  case 
they  wished  one  another  good-night. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  PLEASANT  DISCOURSE  BETWEEN  THE  TWO  PARSONS  AND  THE 
BOOKSELLER,  WHICH  WAS  BROKE  OFF  BY  AN  UNLUCKY  AC- 
CIDENT HAPPENING  IN  THE  INN,  WHICH  PRODUCED  A  DIA- 
LOGUE BETWEEN  MRS  TOW-WOUSE  AND  HER  MAID  OF  NO 
GENTLE  KIND. 

AS  soon  as  Adams  came  into  the  room,  Mr  Barnabas  in- 
-ZjL  troduced  him  to  the  stranger,  who  was,  he  told  him,  a 
bookseller,  and  would  be  as  likely  to  deal  with  him  for  his  ser- 
mons as  any  man  whatever.  Adams,  saluting  the  stranger, 
answered  Barnabas,  that  he  was  very  much  obliged  to  him; 
that  nothing  could  be  more  convenient,  for  he  had  no  other 
business  to  the  great  city,  and  was  heartily  desirous  of  re- 
turning with  the  young  man,  who  was  just  recovered  of  his 
misfortune.  He  then  snapt  his  fingers  (as  was  usual  with 
him),  and  took  two  or  three  turns  about  the  room  in  an 
ecstasy.     And  to  induce  the  bookseller  to  be  as  expeditious 

61 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

as  possible,  as  likewise  to  offer  him  a  better  price  for  his 
commodity,  he  assured  them  their  meeting  was  extremely- 
lucky  to  himself ;  for  that  he  had  the  most  pressing  occasion 
for  money  at  that  time,  his  own  being  almost  spent,  and 
having  a  friend  then  in  the  same  inn,  who  was  just  recovered 
from  some  wounds  he  had  received  from  robbers,  and  was  in 
a  most  indigent  condition.  "  So  that  nothing,"  says  he, 
"  could  be  so  opportune  for  the  supplying  both  our  necessities 
as  my  making  an  immediate  bargain  with  you." 

As  soon  as  he  had  seated  himself,  the  stranger  began  in 
these  words :  "  Sir,  I  do  not  care  absolutely  to  deny  engaging 
in  what  my  friend  Mr  Barnabas  recommends ;  but  sermons 
are  mere  drugs.  The  trade  is  so  vastly  stocked  with  them, 
that  really,  unless  they  come  out  with  the  name  of  Whitefield 
or  Wesley,  or  some  other  such  great  man,  as  a  bishop,  or  those 
sort  of  people,  I  don't  care  to  touch ;  unless  now  it  was  a  ser- 
mon preached  on  the  30th  of  January ;  or  we  could  say  in  the 
title-page,  published  at  the  earnest  request  of  the  congrega- 
tion, or  the  inhabitants ;  but,  truly,  for  a  dry  piece  of  ser- 
mons, I  had  rather  be  excused ;  especially  as  my  hands  are 
so  full  at  present.  However,  sir,  as  Mr  Barnabas  mentioned 
them  to  me,  I  will,  if  you  please,  take  the  manuscript  with  me 
to  town,  and  send  you  my  opinion  of  it  in  a  very  short  time." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Adams,  "  if  you  desire  it,  I  will  read  two  or 
three  discourses  as  a  specimen."  This  Barnabas,  who  loved 
sermons  no  better  than  a  grocer  doth  figs,  immediately  ob- 
jected to,  and  advised  Adams  to  let  the  bookseller  have  his 
sermons :  telling  him,  if  he  gave  him  a  direction,  he  might 
be  certain  of  a  speedy  answer :  adding,  he  need  not  scruple 
trusting  them  in  his  possession.  ;'  No,"  said  the  bookseller, 
"  if  it  was  a  play  that  had  been  acted  twenty  nights  together, 
I  believe  it  would  be  safe." 

Adams  did  not  at  all  relish  the  last  expression ;  he  said 
he  was  sorry  to  hear  sermons  compared  to  plays.  "  Not  by 
me,  I  assure  you,"  cried  the  bookseller,  "  though  I  don't  know 
whether  the  licensing  act  may  not  shortly  bring  them  to  the 
same  footing ;  but  I  have  formerly  known  a  hundred  guineas 
given  for  a  play." — "  More  shame  for  those  who  gave  it," 
cried  Barnabas.  "Why  so?"  said  the  bookseller,  "  for  they 
got  hundreds  by  it." — "  But  is  there  no  difference  between 

62 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

conveying  good  or  ill  instructions  to  mankind  ?  "  said  Adams  :       ~ 
"  Would  not-a-g-  Tiotir^f -tninH  r^thpr  lose  money  by  the-^oae  ^y^K 

than  gain  ithv_the  other?  " — "If  you  can  find  any  such,  I  *'***'*** 
will  not  be  Their  hindrance,"  answered  the  bookseller ;  "  but  I 
think  those  persons  who  get  by  preaching  sermons  are  the 
properest  to  lose  by  printing  them :  for  my  part,  the  copy 
that  sells  best  will  be  always  the  best  copy  in  my  opinion ; 
I  am  no  enemy  to  sermons,  but  because  they  don't  sell :  for 
I  would  as  soon  print  one  of  Whitefield's  as  any  farce  what- 
ever." 

"  Whoever  prints  such  heterodox  stuff  ought  to  be  hanged,"  * 
says  Barnabas.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  turning  to  Adams,  "  this 
fellow's  writings  (I  know  not  whether  you  have  seen  them) 
are  levelled  at  the  clergy.  He  would  reduce  us  to  the  ex- 
ample of  the  primitive  ages,  forsooth!  and  would  insinuate 
to  the  people  that  a  clergyman  ought  to  be  always  preaching 
and  praying.  He  pretends  to  understand  the  Scripture  liter- 
ally ;  and  would  make  mankind  believe  that  the  poverty  and 
low  estate  which  was  recommended  to  the  church  in  its  in- 
fancy, and  was  only  temporary  doctrine  adapted  to  her  under 
persecution,  was  to  be  preserved  in  her  flourishing  and  es- 
tablished state.  Sir,  the  principles  of  Toland,  Woolston,  and 
all  the  freethinkers,  are  not  calculated  to  do  half  the  mischief, 
as  those  professed  by  this  fellow  and  his  followers." 

"  Sir,"  answered  Adams,  "  if  Mr  Whitefield  had  carried  his 
doctrine  no  farther  than  you  mention,  I  should  have  re- 
mained, as  I  once  was,  his  well-wisher.  I  am,  myself,  as 
great  an  enemy  to  the  luxury  and  splendour  of  the  clergy  as 
he  can  be.  I  do  not,  more  than  he,  by  the  flourishing  estate 
of  the  Church,  understand  the  palaces,  equipages,  dress,  fur- 
niture, rich  dainties,  and  vast  fortunes,  of  her  ministers. 
Surely  those  things,  which  savour  so  strongly  of  this  world, 
become  not  the  servants  of  one  who  professed  his  kingdom 
was  not  of  it.  But  when  he  began  to  call  nonsense  and  en- 
thusiasm to  his  aid,  and  set  up  the  detestable  doctrine  of 
faith  against  good  works,  I  was  his  friend  no  longer ;  for 
surely  that  doctrine  was  coined  in  hell ;  and  one  would  think 
none  but  the  devil  himself  could  have  the  confidence  to  preach 
it.  For  can  anything  be  more  derogatory  to  the  honour  of 
of  God  than  for  men  to  imagine  that  the  all-wise  Being  will 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

hereafter  say  to  the  good  and  virtuous,  '  Notwithstanding 
the  purity  of  thy  life,  notwithstanding  that  constant  rule  of 
virtue  and  goodness  in  which  you  walked  upon  earth,  still, 
as  thou  didst  not  believe  everything  in  the  true  orthodox  man- 
ner, thy  want  of  faith  shall  condemn  thee  ?  '  Or,  on  the 
other  side,  can  any  doctrine  have  a  more  pernicious  influence 
on  society,  than  a  persuasion  that  it  will  be  a  good  plea  for 
the  villain  at  the  last  day — '  Lord,  it  is  true  I  never  obeyed 
one  of  thy  commandments,  yet  punish  me  not,  for  I  believe 
them  all  ?  '  " — "  I  suppose,  sir,"  said  the  bookseller,  "  your 
sermons  are  of  a  different  kind." — "  Ay,  sir,"  said  Adams ; 
"  the  contrary,  I  thank  Heaven,  is  inculcated  in  almost  every 
page,  or  I  should  belie  my  own  opinion,  which  hath  always 
been,  that  a  virtuous  and  good  Turk,  or  heathen,  are  more  ac- 
ceptable in  the  sight  of  their  Creator  than  a  vicious  and  wicked 
Christian,  though  his  faith  was  as  perfectly  orthodox  as  St. 
Paul  himself." — "  I  wish  you  success,"  says  the  bookseller, 
"but  must  beg  to  be  excused,  as  my  hands  are  so  very  full 
at  present ;  and,  indeed,  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  a  backward- 
ness in  the  trade  to  engage  in  a  book  which  the  clergy  would 
be  certain  to  cry  down." — "  God  forbid,"  says  Adams,  "  any 
books  should  be  propagated  which  the  clergy  would  cry  down ; 
but  if  you  mean  by  the  clergy,  some  few  designing  factious 
men,  who  have  it  at  heart  to  establish  some  favourite  schemes 
at  the  price  of  liberty  of  mankind,  and  the  very  essence  of 
religion,  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  such  persons  to  decry  any 
book  they  please ;  witness  that  excellent  book  called,  A  Plain 
Account  of  the  Nature  and  End  of  the  Sacrament — a  book 
written  (if  I  may  venture  on  the  expression)  with  the  pen  of 
an  angel,  and  calculated  to  restore  the  true  use  of  Christianity, 
and  of  that  sacred  institution  ;  for  what  could  tend  more  to  the 
noble  purposes  of  religion  than  frequent  cheerful  meetings 
among  the  members  of  a  society,  in  which  they  should,  in 
the  presence  of  one  another,  and  in  the  service  of  the  Supreme 
Being,  make  promises  of  being  good,  friendly,  and  benevolent 
to  each  other?  Now,  this  excellent  book  was  attacked  by  a 
party,  but  unsuccessfully."  At  these  words  Barnabas  fell  a 
ringing  with  all  the  violence  imaginable ;  upon  which  a  ser- 
vant attending,  he  bid  him  bring  a  bill  immediately ;  for  that 
he  was  in  company,  for  aught  he  knew,  with  the  devil  him- 

64 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

self;  and  he  expected  to  hear  the  Alcoran,  the  Leviathan,  or 
Woolston  commended,  if  he  staid  a  few  minutes  longer. 
Adams  desired,  as  he  was  so  much  moved  at  his  mentioning 
a  book  which  he  did  without  apprehending  any  possibility 
of  offence,  that  he  would  be  so  kind  to  propose  any  ob- 
jections he  had  to  it,  which  he  would  endeavour  to  answer. 
— "  I  propose  objections !  "  said  Barnabas,  "  I  never  read  a 
syllable  in  any  such  wicked  book;  I  never  saw  it  in  my  life, 
I  assure  you." — Adams  was  going  to  answer,  when  a  most 
hideous  uproar  began  in  the  inn.  Mrs  Tow-wouse,  Mr 
Tow-wouse,  and  Betty  all  lifting  up  their  voices  together; 
but  Mrs  Tow-wouse's  voice,  like  a  bass  viol  in  a  concert,  was 
clearly  and  distinctly  distinguished  among  the  rest,  and  was 
heard  to  articulate  the  following  sounds : — "  O  you  damn'd 
villain !  is  this  the  return  to  all  the  care  I  have  taken  of 
your  family?  This  the  reward  of  my  virtue?  Is  this  the 
manner  in  which  you  behave  to  one  who  brought  you  a 
fortune,  and  preferred  you  to  so  many  matches,  all  your 
betters?  To  abuse  my  bed,  my  own  bed,  with  my  own  ser- 
vant !  but  I'll  maul  the  slut,  I'll  tear  her  nasty  eyes  out !  Was 
ever  such  a  pitiful  dog,  to  take  up  with  such  a  mean  trollop? 
If  she  had  been  a  gentlewoman,  like  myself,  it  had  been 
some  excuse ;  but  a  beggarly,  saucy,  dirty  servant-maid.  Get 
you  out  of  my  house,  you  whore."  To  which  she  added  an- 
other name,  which  we  do  not  care  to  stain  our  paper  with. 
It  was  a  monosyllable  beginning  with  a  b — ,  and  indeed  was 
the  same  as  if  she  had  pronounced  the  words,  she-dog.  Which 
term  we  shall,  to  avoid  offence,  use  on  this  occasion,  though 
indeed  both  the  mistress  and  maid  uttered  the  above-men- 
tioned b — ,  a  word  extremely  disgustful  to  females  of  the 
lower  sort.  Betty  had  borne  all  hitherto  with  patience,  and 
had  uttered  only  lamentations ;  but  the  last  appellation  stung 
her  to  the  quick.  "  I  am  a  woman  as  well  as  yourself,"  she 
roared  out,  "  and  no  she-dog ;  and  if  I  have  been  a  little 
naughty,  I  am  not  the  first;  if  I  have  been  no  better  than  I 
should  be,"  cried  she,  sobbing,  "  that's  no  reason  you  should 
call  me  out  of  my  name ;  my  be-betters  are  wo-worse  than 
me." — "  Huzzy,  huzzy,"  says  Mrs  Tow-wouse,  "  have  you  the 
impudence  to  answer  me  ?  Did  I  not  catch  you,  you  saucy  " 
— and  then  again  repeated  the  terrible  word  so  odious  to 

5  65 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF     * 

female  ears.  '  I  can't  bear  that  name,"  answered  Betty :  "  if 
I  have  been  wicked,  I  am  to  answer  for  it  myself  in  the 
other  world ;  but  I  have  done  nothing  that's  unnatural ;  and 
I  will  go  out  of  your  house  this  moment,  for  I  will  never  be 
called  she-dog  by  any  mistress  in  England."  Mrs  Tow-wouse 
then  armed  herself  with  the  spit,  but  was  prevented  from  exe- 
cuting any  dreadful  purpose  by  Mr  Adams,  who  confined 
her  arms  with  the  strength  of  a  wrist  which  Hercules  would 
not  have  been  ashamed  of.  Mr  Tow-wouse,  being  caught, 
as  our  lawyers  express  it,  with  the  manner,  and  having  no 
defence  to  make,  very  prudently  withdrew  himself ;  and  Betty 
committed  herself  to  the  protection  of  the  hostler,  who, 
though  she  could  not  conceive  him  pleased  with  what  had 
happened,  was,  in  her  opinion,  rather  a  gentler  beast  than 
her  mistress. 

Mrs  Tow-wouse,  at  the  intercession  of  Mr  Adams,  and 
finding  the  enemy  vanished,  began  to  compose  herself,  and 
at  length  recovered  the  usual  serenity  of  her  temper,  in  which 
we  will  leave  her,  to  open  to  the  reader  the  steps  which  led 
to  a  catastrophe,  common  enough,  and  comical  enough  too 
perhaps,  in  modern  history,  yet  often  fatal  to  the  repose  and 
well-being  of  families,  and  the  subject  of  many  tragedies, 
both  in  life  and  on  the  stage. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  BETTY  THE  CHAMBERMAID,  AND  AN  ACCOUNT 
OF  WHAT  OCCASIONED  THE  VIOLENT  SCENE  IN  THE  PRE- 
CEDING CHAPTER. 

BETTY,  who  was  the  occasion  of  all  this  hurry,  had  some 
good  qualities.  She  had  good-nature,  generosity,  and 
compassion,  but  unfortunately  her  constitution  was  composed 
of  those  warm  ingredients  which,  though  the  purity  of  courts 
or  nunneries  might  have  happily  controlled  them,  were  by 
no  means  able  to  endure  the  ticklish  situation  of  a  chamber- 
maid at  an  inn  ;  who  is  daily  liable  to  the  solicitations  of  lovers 
of  all  complexions ;  to  the  dangerous  addresses  of  fine  gentle- 

66 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

men  of  the  army,  who  sometimes  are  obliged  to  reside  with 
them  a  whole  year  together ;  and,  above  all,  are  exposed  to 
the  caresses  of  footmen,  stage-coachmen,  and  drawers ;  all 
of  whom  employ  the  whole  artillery  of  kissing,  flattering,  brib- 
ing, and  every  other  weapon  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
armoury  of  love,  against  them. 

Betty,  who  was  but  one-and-twenty,  had  now  lived  three 
years  in  this  dangerous  situation,  during  which  she  had  es- 
caped pretty  well.  An  ensign  of  foot  was  the  first  person 
who  made  an  impression  on  her  heart;  he  did  indeed  raise 
a  flame  in  her  which  required  the  care  of  a  surgeon  to  cool. 

While  she  burnt  for  him,  several  others  burnt  for  her. 
Officers  of  the  army,  young  gentlemen  travelling  the  western 
circuit,  inoffensive  squires,  and  some  of  graver  character,  were 
set  a-fire  by  her  charms ! 

At  length,  having  perfectly  recovered  the  effects  of  her 
first  unhappy  passion,  she  seemed  to  have  vowed  a  state  of 
perpetual  chastity.  She  was  long  deaf  to  all  the  sufferings  of 
her  lovers,  till  one  day,  at  a  neighbouring  fair,  the  rhetoric 
of  John  the  hostler,  with  a  new  straw  hat,  and  a  pint  of  wine, 
made  a  second  conquest  over  her. 

She  did  not,  however,  feel  any  of  those  flames  on  this 
occasion  which  had  been  the  consequence  of  her  former 
amour ;  nor,  indeed,  those  other  ill  effects  which  prudent 
young  women  very  justly  apprehend  from  too  absolute  an 
indulgence  to  the  pressing  endearments  of  their  lovers.  This 
latter,  perhaps,  was  a  little  owing  to  her  not  being  entirely 
constant  to  John,  with  whom  she  permitted  Tom  Whipwell 
the  stage-coachman,  and  now  and  then  a  handsome  young 
traveller,  to  share  her  favours. 

Mr  Tow-wouse  had  for  some  time  cast  the  languishing  eyes 
of  affection  on  this  young  maiden.  He  had  laid  hold  on  every 
opportunity  of  saying  tender  things  to  her,  squeezing  her  by 
the  hand,  and  sometimes  kissing  her  lips ;  for,  as  the  vio- 
lence of  his  passion  had  considerably  abated  to  Mrs  Tow- 
wouse,  so,  like  water  which  is  stopt  from  its  usual  current 
in  one  place,  it  naturally  sought  a  vent  in  another.  Mrs 
Tow-wouse  is  thought  to  have  perceived  this  abatement,  and, 
probably,  it  added  very  little  to  the  natural  sweetness  of  her 
temper;  for  though  she  was  as  true  to  her  husband  as  the 

67 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

dial  to  the  sun,  she  was  rather  more  desirous  of  being  shone 
on,  as  being  more  capable  of  feeling  his  warmth. 

Ever  since  Joseph's  arrival,  Betty  had  conceived  an  extra- 
ordinary liking  to  him,  which  discovered  itself  more  and  more 
as  he  grew  better  and  better;  till  that  fatal  evening,  when, 
as  she  was  warming  his  bed,  her  passion  grew  to  such  a  height, 
and  so  perfectly  mastered  both  her  modesty  and  her  reason, 
that,  after  many  fruitless  hints  and  sly  insinuations,  she  at 
last  threw  down  the  warming-pan,  and,  embracing  him  with 
great  eagerness,  swore  he  was  the  handsomest  creature  she 
had  ever  seen. 

Joseph,  in  great  confusion,  leapt  from  her,  and  told  her  he 
was  sorry  to  see  a  young  woman  cast  off  all  regard  to  mod- 
esty ;  but  she  had  gone  too  far  to  recede,  and  grew  so  very 
indecent,  that  Joseph  was  obliged,  contrary  to  his  inclination, 
to  use  some  violence  to  her;  and,  taking  her  in  his  arms,  he 
shut  her  out  of  the  room,  and  locked  the  door. 

How  ought  man  to  rejoice  that  his  chastity  is  always  in  his 
own  power;  that,  if  he  hath  sufficient  strength  of  mind,  he 
hath  always  a  competent  strength  of  body  to  defend  himself, 
and  cannot,  like  a  poor  weak  woman,  be  ravished  against  his 
will! 

Betty  was  in  the  most  violent  agitation  at  this  disappoint- 
ment. Rage  and  lust  pulled  her  heart,  as  with  two  strings, 
two  different  ways ;  one  moment  she  thought  of  stabbing  Jo- 
seph ;  the  next,  of  taking  him  in  her  arms,  and  devouring 
him  with  kisses ;  but  the  latter  passion  was  far  more  preva- 
lent. Then  she  thought  of  revenging  his  refusal  on  herself; 
but,  whilst  she  was  engaged  in  this  meditation,  happily  death 
presented  himself  to  her  in  so  many  shapes,  of  drowning, 
hanging,  poisoning,  &c,  that  her  distracted  mind  could  resolve 
on  none.  In  this  perturbation  of  spirit,  it  accidentally  oc- 
curred to  her  memory  that  her  master's  bed  was  not  made; 
she  therefore  went  directly  to  his  room,  where  he  happened  | 
at  that  time  to  be  engaged  at  his  bureau.  As  soon  as  she 
saw  him  she  attempted  to  retire;  but  he  called  her  back,  and, 
taking  her  by  the  hand,  squeezed  her  so  tenderly,  at  the  same 
time  whispering  so  many  soft  things  into  her  ears,  and  then 
pressed  her  so  closely  with  his  kisses,  that  the  vanquished  fair 
one,  whose  passions  were  already  raised,  and  which  were  not 

68 


••  Taking-  her  in  his  arms,  he  shut  her  out  of  the  room" 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

so  whimsically  capricious  that  one  man  only  could  lay  them, 
though,  perhaps,  she  would  have  rather  preferred  that  one — 
the  vanquished  fair  one  quietly  submitted,  I  say,  to  her  mas- 
ter's will,  who  had  just  attained  the  accomplishment  of  his 
bliss  when  Mrs  Tow-wouse  unexpectedly  entered  the  room, 
and  caused  all  that  confusion  which  we  have  before  seen, 
and  which  it  is  not  necessary,  at  present,  to  take  any  farther 
notice  of;  since,  without  the  assistance  of  a  single  hint  from 
us,  every  reader  of  any  speculation  or  experience,  though  not 
married  himself,  may  easily  conjecture  that  it  concluded  with 
the  discharge  of  Betty,  the  submission  of  Mr  Tow-wouse,  with 
some  things  to  be  performed  on  his  side  by  way  of  gratitude 
for  his  wife's  goodness  in  being  reconciled  to  him,  with 
many  hearty  promises  never  to  offend  any  more  in  the  like 
manner;  and,  lastly,  his  quietly  and  contentedly  bearing  to  be 
reminded  of  his  transgressions,  as  a  kind  of  penance,  once  or 
twice  a-day  during  the  residue  of  his  life. 


69 


BOOK   II. 


CHAPTER    I. 

OF  DIVISIONS  IN  AUTHORS. 

THERE  are  certain  mysteries  or  secrets  in  all  trades,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest,  from  that  of  prime-ministering 
to  this  of  authoring,  which  are  seldom  discovered  unless  to 
members  of  the  same  calling.  Among  those  used  by  us  gen- 
tlemen of  the  latter  occupation,  I  take  this  of  dividing  our 
works  into  books  and  chapters  to  be  none  of  the  least  con- 
siderable. Now,  for  want  of  being  truly  acquainted  with  this 
secret,  common  readers  imagine,  that  by  this  art  of  dividing 
we  mean  only  to  swell  our  works  to  a  much  larger  bulk  than 
they  would  otherwise  be  extended  to.  These  several  places 
therefore  in  our  paper,  which  are  filled  with  our  books  and 
chapters,  are  understood  as  so  much  buckram,  stays,  and  stay- 
tape  in  a  tailor's  bill,  serving  only  to  make  up  the  sum  total, 
commonly  found  at  the  bottom  of  our  first  page  and  of  his 
last. 

But  in  reality  the  case  is  otherwise,  and  in  this  as  well  as 
all  other  instances  we  consult  the  advantage  of  our  reader, 
not  our  own  ;  and  indeed  many  notable  uses  arise  to  him 
from  this  method ;  for,  first,  those  little  spaces  between  our 
chapters  may  be  looked  upon  as  an  inn  or  resting-place  where 
he  may  stop  and  take  a  glass  or  any  other  refreshment  as  it 
pleases  him.  Nay,  our  fine  readers  will,  perhaps,  be  scarce 
able  to  travel  farther  than  through  one  of  them  in  a  day.  As 
to  those  vacant  pages  which  are  placed  between  our  books, 
they  are  to  be  regarded  as  those  stages  where  in  long  journeys 
the  traveller  stays  some  time  to  repose  himself,  and  consider 
of  what  he  hath  seen  in  the  parts  he  hath  already  passed 

70 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF   JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

through ;  a  consideration  which  I  take  the  liberty  to  recom- 
mend a  little  to  the  reader;  for,  however  swift  his  capacity 
may  be,  I  would  not  advise  him  to  travel  through  these  pages 
too  fast ;  for  if  he  doth,  he  may  probably  miss  the  seeing  some 
curious  productions  of  nature,  which  will  be  observed  by  the 
slower  and  more  accurate  reader.  A  volume  without  any  such 
places  of  rest  resembles  the  opening  of  wilds  or  seas,  which 
tires  the  eye  and  fatigues  the  spirit  when  entered  upon. 

Secondly,  what  are  the  contents  prefixed  to  every  chapter 
but  so  many  inscriptions  over  the  gates  of  inns  (to  continue 
the  same  metaphor),  informing  the  reader  what  entertainment 
he  is  to  expect,  which  if  he  likes  not,  he  may  travel  on  to  the 
next;  for,  in  biography,  as  we  are  not  tied  down  to  an  exact 
concatenation  equally  with  other  historians,  so  a  chapter  or 
two  (for  instance,  this  I  am  now  writing)  may  be  often  passed 
over  without  any  injury  to  the  whole.  And  in  these  inscrip- 
tions I  have  been  as  faithful  as  possible,  not  imitating  the 
celebrated  Montaigne,  who  promises  you  one  thing  and  gives 
you  another ;  nor  some  title-page  authors,  who  promise  a  great 
deal  and  produce  nothing  at  all. 

There  are,  besides  these  more  obvious  benefits,  several 
others  which  our  readers  enjoy  from  this  art  of  dividing; 
though  perhaps  most  of  them  too  mysterious  to  be  presently 
understood  by  any  who  are  not  initiated  into  the  science  of 
authoring.  To  mention,  therefore,  but  one  which  is  most 
obvious,  it  prevents  spoiling  the  beauty  of  a  book  by  turning 
down  its  leaves,  a  method  otherwise  necessary  to  those  readers 
who  (though  they  read  with  great  improvement  and  ad- 
vantage) are  apt,  when  they  return  to  their  study  after  half 
an  hour's  absence,  to  forget  where  they  left  off. 

These  divisions  have  the  sanction  of  great  antiquity.  Homer 
not  only  divided  his  great  work  into  twenty-four  books  (in 
compliment  perhaps  to  the  twenty-four  letters  to  which  he  had 
very  particular  obligations),  but,  according  to  the  opinion  of 
some  very  sagacious  critics,  hawked  them  all  separately,  de- 
livering only  one  book  at  a  time  (probably  by  subscription). 
He  was  the  first  inventor  of  the  art  which  hath  so  long  lain 
dormant,  of  publishing  by  numbers ;  an  art  now  brought 
to  such  perfection,  that  even  dictionaries  are  divided  and 
exhibited  piecemeal  to  the  public ;  nay,  one  bookseller  hath 

7i 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

(to  encourage  learning  and  ease  the  public)  contrived  to  give 
them  a  dictionary  in  this  divided  manner  for  only  fifteen 
shillings  more  than  it  would  have  cost  entire. 

Virgil  hath  given  us  his  poem  in  twelve  books,  an  argument 
of  his  modesty;  for  by  that,  doubtless,  he  would  insinuate 
that  he  pretends  to  no  more  than  half  the  merit  of  the  Greek ; 
for  the  same  reason,  our  Milton  went  originally  no  farther 
than  ten ;  till,  being  puffed  up  by  the  praise  of  his  friends,  he 
put  himself  on  the  same  footing  with  the  Roman  poet. 

I  shall  not,  however,  enter  so  deep  into  this  matter  as 
some  very  learned  critics  have  done ;  who  have  with  infinite 
labour  and  acute  discernment  discovered  what  books  are 
proper  for  embellishment,  and  what  require  simplicity  only, 
particularly  with  regard  to  similes,  which  I  think  are  now 
generally  agreed  to  become  any  book  but  the  first. 

I  will  dismiss  this  chapter  with  the  following  observation : 
that  it  becomes  an  author  generally  to  divide  a  book,  as  it  does 
a  butcher  to  joint  his  meat,  for  such  assistance  is  of  great 
help  to  both  the  reader  and  the  carver.  And  now,  having 
indulged  myself  a  little,  I  will  endeavour  to  indulge  the 
curiosity  of  my  reader,  who  is  no  doubt  impatient  to  know 
what  he  will  find  in  the  subsequent  chapters  of  this  book. 


CHAPTER  II. 


A  SURPRISING  INSTANCE  OF  MR  ADAMS  S  SHORT  MEMORY,  WITH 
THE  UNFORTUNATE  CONSEQUENCES  WHICH  IT  BROUGHT  ON 
JOSEPH. 

MR  ADAMS  and  Joseph  were  now  ready  to  depart  dif- 
ferent ways,  when  an  accident  determined  the  former 
to  return  with  his  friend,  which  Tow-wouse,  Barnabas,  and 
the  bookseller  had  not  been  able  to  do.  This  accident  was, 
that  those  sermons,  which  the  parson  was  travelling  to  London 
to  publish,  were,  O  my  good  reader !  left  behind ;  what  he  had 
mistaken  for  them  in  the  saddlebags  being  no  other  than 
three  shirts,  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  some  other  necessaries, 
which  Mrs  Adams,  who  thought  her  husband  would  want 

72 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

shirts  more  than  sermons  on  his  journey,  had  carefully  pro- 
vided him. 

This  discovery  was  now  luckily  owing  to  the  presence  of 
Joseph  at  the  opening  of  the  saddlebags ;  who,  having  heard 
his  friend  say  he  carried  with  him  nine  volumes  of  sermons, 
and  not  being  of  that  sect  of  philosophers  who  can  reduce  all 
the  matter  of  the  world  into  a  nutshell,  seeing  there  was  no 
room  for  them  in  the  bags,  where  the  parson  had  said  they 
were  deposited,  had  the  curiosity  to  cry  out,  "  Bless  me,  sir, 
where  are  your  sermons  ?  "  The  parson  answered,  "  There, 
there,  child ;  there  they  are,  under  my  shirts."  Now  it  hap- 
pened that  he  had  taken  forth  his  last  shirt,  and  the  vehicle 
remained  visibly  empty.  "  Sure,  sir,"  says  Joseph,  "  there  is 
nothing  in  the  bags."  Upon  which  Adams,  starting,  and  tes- 
tifying some  surprize,  cried,  "  Hey !  fie,  fie  upon  it !  they  are 
not  here  sure  enough.    Ay,  they  are  certainly  left  behind." 

Joseph  was  greatly  concerned  at  the  uneasiness  which  he 
apprehended  his  friend  must  feel  from  this  disappointment ; 
he  begged  him  to  pursue  his  journey,  and  promised  he  would 
himself  return  with  the  books  to  him  with  the  utmost  expe- 
dition. "No,  thank  you,  child,"  answered  Adams ;  "  it  shall 
not  be  so.  What  would  it  avail  me,  to  tarry  in  the  great 
city,  unless  I  had  my  discourses  with  me,  which  are  nt  ita 
dicam,  the  sole  cause,  the  aitia  monotate  of  my  peregrination  ? 
No,  child,  as  this  accident  hath  happened,  I  am  resolved  to 
return  back  to  my  cure,  together  with  you ;  which  indeed 
my  inclination  sufficiently  leads  me  to.  This  disappointment 
may  perhaps  be  intended  for  my  good."  He  concluded  with 
a  verse  out  of  Theocritus,  which  signifies  no  more  than  that 
sometimes  it  rains,  and  sometimes  the  sun  shines. 

Joseph  bowed  with  obedience  and  thankfulness  for  the 
inclination  which  the  parson  expressed  of  returning  with 
him ;  and  now  the  bill  was  called  for,  which,  on  examination, 
amounted  within  a  shilling  to  the  sum  Mr  Adams  had  in  his 
pocket.  Perhaps  the  reader  may  wonder  how  he  was  able 
to  produce  a  sufficient  sum  for  so  many  days  :  that  he  may  not 
be  surprized,  therefore,  it  cannot  be  unnecessary  to  acquaint 
him  that  he  borrowed  a  guinea  of  a  servant  belonging  to  the 
coach  and  six,  who  had  been  formerly  one  of  his  parishioners, 
and  whose  master,  the  owner  of  the  coach,  then  lived  within 

73 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

three  miles  of  him ;  for  so  good  was  the  credit  of  Mr  Adams, 
that  even  Mr  Peter,  the  Lady  Booby's  steward,  would  have 
lent  him  a  guinea  with  very  little  security. 

Mr  Adams  discharged  the  bill,  and  they  were  both  setting 
out,  having  agreed  to  ride  and  tie;  a  method  of  travelling 
much  used  by  persons  who  have  but  one  horse  between  them, 
and  is  thus  performed.  The  two  travellers  set  out  together, 
one  on  horseback,  the  other  on  foot :  now,  as  it  generally  hap- 
pens that  he  on  horseback  outgoes  him  on  foot,  the  custom  is, 
that,  when  he  arrives  at  the  distance  agreed  on,  he  is  to  dis- 
mount, tie  the  horse  to  some  gate,  tree,  post,  or  other  thing, 
and  then  proceed  on  foot ;  when  the  other  comes  up  to  the 
horse  he  unties  him,  mounts,  and  gallops  on,  till,  having 
passed  by  his  fellow-traveller,  he  likewise  arrives  at  the  place 
of  tying.  And  this  is  that  method  of  travelling  so  much  in 
use  among  our  prudent  ancestors,  who  knew  that  horses  had 
mouths  as  well  as  legs,  and  that  they  could  not  use  the  latter 
without  being  at  the  expense  of  suffering  the  beasts  them- 
selves to  use  the  former.  This  was  the  method  in  use  in 
those  days  when,  instead  of  a  coach  and  six,  a  member  of 
parliament's  lady  used  to  mount  a  pillion  behind  her  hus- 
band; and  a  grave  Serjeant  at  law  condescended  to  amble  to 
Westminster  on  an  easy  pad,  with  his  clerk  kicking  his  heels 
behind  him. 

Adams  was  now  gone  some  minutes,  having  insisted  on 
Joseph's  beginning  the  journey  on  horseback,  and  Joseph 
had  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  when  the  hostler  presented  him 
a  bill  for  the  horse's  board  during  his  residence  at  the  inn. 
Joseph  said  Mr  Adams  had  paid  all ;  but  this  matter,  being 
referred  to  Mr  Tow-wouse,  was  by  him  decided  in  favour  of 
the  hostler,  and  indeed  with  truth  and  justice;  for  this  was 
a  fresh  instance  of  that  shortness  of  memory  which  did  not 
arise  from  want  of  parts,  but  that  continual  hurry  in  which 
parson  Adams  was  always  involved. 

Joseph  was  now  reduced  to  a  dilemma  which  extremely 
puzzled  him.  The  sum  due  for  horse-meat  was  twelve  shil- 
lings (for  Adams,  who  had  borrowed  the  beast  of  his  clerk, 
had  ordered  him  to  be  fed  as  well  as  they  could  feed  him), 
and  the  cash  in  his  pocket  amounted  to  sixpence  (for  Adams 
had  divided  the  last  shilling  with  him).     Now,  though  there 

74 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

have  been  some  ingenious  persons  who  have  contrived  to  pay- 
twelve  shillings  with  sixpence,  Joseph  was  not  one  of  them. 
He  had  never  contracted  a  debt  in  his  life,  and  was  conse- 
quently the  less  ready  at  an  expedient  to  extricate  himself. 
Tow-wouse  was  willing  to  give  him  credit  till  next  time,  to 
which  Mrs  Tow-wouse  would  probably  have  consented  (for 
such  was  Joseph's  beauty,  that  it  had  made  some  impression 
even  on  that  piece  of  flint  which  that  good  woman  wore 
in  her  bosom  by  way  of  heart).  Joseph  would  have  found, 
therefore,  very  likely  the  passage  free,  had  he  not,  when  he 
honestly  discovered  the  nakedness  of  his  pockets,  pulled  out 
that  little  piece  of  gold  which  we  have  mentioned  before. 
This  caused  Mrs  Tow-wouse's  eyes  to  water ;  she  told  Joseph 
she  did  not  conceive  a  man  could  want  money  whilst  he  had 
gold  in  his  pocket.  Joseph  answered  he  had  such  a  value 
for  that  little  piece  of  gold,  that  he  would  not  part  with  it  for 
a  hundred  times  the  riches  which  the  greatest  esquire  in  the 
county  was  worth.  "  A  pretty  way,  indeed,"  said  Mrs  Tow- 
wouse,  "  to  run  in  debt,  and  then  refuse  to  part  with  your 
money,  because  you  have  a  value  for  it!  I  never  knew  any 
piece  of  gold  of  more  value  than  as  many  shillings  as  it 
would  change  for." — "  Not  to  preserve  my  life  from  starving, 
nor  to  redeem  it  from  a  robber,  would  I  part  with  this  dear 
piece !  "  answered  Joseph.  "  What,"  says  Mrs  Tow-wouse, 
"  I  suppose  it  was  given  you  by  some  vile  trollop,  some  miss 
or  other;  if  it  had  been  the  present  of  a  virtuous  woman, 
you  would  not  have  had  such  a  value  for  it.  My  husband 
is  a  fool  if  he  parts  with  the  horse  without  being  paid  for 
him." — "  No,  no,  I  can't  part  with  the  horse,  indeed,  till  I 
have  the  money,"  cried  Tow-wouse.  A  resolution  highly 
commended  by  a  lawyer  then  in  the  yard,  who  declared  Mr 
Tow-wouse  might  justify  the  detainer. 

As  we  cannot  therefore  at  present  get  Mr  Joseph  out  of 
the  inn,  we  shall  leave  him  in  it,  and  carry  our  reader  on 
after  parson  Adams,  who,  his  mind  being  perfectly  at  ease, 
fell  into  a  contemplation  on  a  passage  in  iEschylus,  which 
entertained  him  for  three  miles  together,  without  suffering 
him  once  to  reflect  on  his  fellow-traveller. 

At  length,  having  spun  out  his  thread,  and  being  now  at 
the  summit  of  a  hill,  he  cast  his  eyes  backwards,  and  won- 

75 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

dered  that  he  could  not  see  any  sign  of  Joseph.  As  he  left 
him  ready  to  mount  the  horse,  he  could  not  apprehend  any 
mischief  had  happened,  neither  could  he  suspect  that  he 
missed  his  way,  it  being  so  broad  and  plain ;  the  only  reason 
which  presented  itself  to  him  was,  that  he  had  met  with  an 
acquaintance  who  had  prevailed  with  him  to  delay  some  time 
in  discourse. 

He  therefore  resolved  to  proceed  slowly  forwards,  not 
doubting  but  that  he  should  be  shortly  overtaken ;  and  soon 
came  to  a  large  water,  which,  filling  the  whole  road,  he  saw 
no  method  of  passing  unless  by  wading  through,  which  he 
accordingly  did  up  to  his  middle ;  but  was  no  sooner  got  to 
the  other  side  than  he  perceived,  if  he  had  looked  over  the 
hedge,  he  would  have  found  a  footpath  capable  of  conducting 
him  without  wetting  his  shoes. 

His  surprize  at  Joseph's  not  coming  up  grew  now  very 
troublesome :  he  began  to  fear  he  knew  not  what ;  and  as 
he  determined  to  move  no  farther,  and,  if  he  did  not  shortly 
overtake  him,  to  return  back,  he  wished  to  find  a  house  of 
public  entertainment  where  he  might  dry  his  clothes  and 
refresh  himself  with  a  pint;  but,  seeing  no  such  (for  no 
other  reason  than  because  he  did  not  cast  his  eyes  a  hundred 
yards  forwards),  he  sat  himself  down  on  a  stile,  and  pulled 
out  his  ^Eschylus. 

A  fellow  passing  presently  by,  Adams  asked  him  if  he 
could  direct  him  to  an  alehouse.  The  fellow,  who  had  just 
left  it,  and  perceived  the  house  and  sign  to  be  within  sight, 
thinking  he  had  jeered  him,  and  being  of  a  morose  temper, 
bade  him  follow  his  nose  and  be  d — n'd.  Adams  told  him 
he  was  a  saucy  jackanapes ;  upon  which  the  fellow  turned 
about  angrily;  but,  perceiving  Adams  clench  his  fist,  he 
thought  proper  to  go  on  without  taking  any  farther  notice. 

A  horseman,  following  immediately  after,  and  being  asked 
the  same  question,  answered,  Friend,  there  is  one  within  a 
stone's  throw;  I  believe  you  may  see  it  before  you.  Adams, 
lifting  up  his  eyes,  cried,  I  protest,  and  so  there  is;  and, 
thanking  his  informer,  proceeded  directly  to  it. 


76 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  OPINION  OF  TWO  LAWYERS  CONCERNING  THE  SAME  GEN- 
TLEMAN, WITH  MR  ADAMS'S  INQUIRY  INTO  THE  RELIGION 
OF  HIS  HOST. 

HE  had  just  entered  the  house,  and  called  for  his  pint, 
and  seated  himself,  when  two  horsemen  came  to  the 
door,  and,  fastening  their  horses  to  the  rails,  alighted.  They 
said  there  was  a  violent  shower  of  rain  coming  on,  which  they 
intended  to  weather  there,  and  went  into  a  little  room  by 
themselves,  not  perceiving  Mr  Adams. 

One  of  these  immediately  asked  the  other,  if  he  had  seen 
a  more  comical  adventure  a  great  while?  Upon  which  the 
other  said,  he  doubted  whether  by  law,  the  landlord  could 
justify  detaining  the  horse  for  his  corn  and  hay.  But  the 
former  answered,  undoubtedly  he  can;  it  is  an  adjudged 
case,  and  I  have  known  it  tried. 

Adams,  who,  though  he  was,  as  the  reader  may  suspect,  a 
little  inclined  to  forgetfulness,  never  wanted  more  than  a 
hint  to  remind  him,  overhearing  their  discourse,  immediately 
suggested  to  himself  that  this  was  his  own  horse,  and  that  he 
had  forgot  to  pay  for  him,  which,  upon  inquiry,  he  was 
certified  of  by  the  gentlemen ;  who  added,  that  the  horse 
was  likely  to  have  more  rest  than  food,  unless  he  was  paid  for. 

The  poor  parson  resolved  to  return  presently  to  the  inn, 
though  he  knew  no  more  than  Joseph  how  to  procure  his 
horse  his  liberty ;  he  was  however  prevailed  on  to  stay  under 
covert,  till  the  shower,  which  was  now  very  violent,  was  over. 

The  three  travellers  then  sat  down  together  over  a  mug  of 
good  beer;  when  Adams,  who  had  observed  a  gentleman's 
house  as  he  passed  along  the  road,  enquired  to  whom  it  be- 
longed ;  one  of  the  horsemen  had  no  sooner  mentioned  the 
owner's  name,  than  the  other  began  to  revile  him  in  the 
most  opprobrious  terms.  The  English  language  scarce  affords 
a  single  reproachful  word,  which  he  did  not  vent  on  this 
occasion.  He  charged  him  likewise  with  many  particular 
facts.  He  said, — he  no  more  regarded  a  field  of  wheat 
when  he  was  hunting,  than  he   did  the  highway;  that  he 

77 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

had  injured  several  poor  farmers  by  trampling  their  corn 
under  his  horse's  heels;  and  if  any  of  them  begged  him 
with  the  utmost  submission  to  refrain,  his  horsewhip  was 
always  ready  to  do  them  justice.  He  said,  that  he  was  the 
greatest  tyrant  to  the  neighbours  in  every  other  instance,  and 
would  not  suffer  a  farmer  to  keep  a  gun,  though  he  might 
justify  it  by  law;  and  in  his  own  family  so  cruel  a  master, 
that  he  never  kept  a  servant  a  twelvemonth.  "  In  his  capacity 
as  a  justice,"- continued  he,  "he  behaves  so  partially,  that 
he  commits  or  acquits  just  as  he  is  in  the  humour,  without 
any  regard  to  truth  or  evidence ;  the  devil  may  carry  any 
one  before  him  for  me ;  I  would  rather  be  tried  before  some 
judges,  than  be  a  prosecutor  before  him :  if  I  had  an  estate 
in  the  neighbourhood,  I  would  sell  it  for  half  the  value 
rather  than  live  near  him." 

Adams  shook  his  head,  and  said,  he  was  sorry  such  men 
were  suffered  to  proceed  with  impunity,  and  that  riches  could 
set  any  man  above  the  law.  The  reviler,  a  little  after,  retiring 
into  the  yard,  the  gentleman  who  had  first  mentioned  his 
name  to  Adams  began  to  assure  him  that  his  companion  was 
a  prejudiced  person.  It  is  true,  says  he,  perhaps,  that  he 
may  have  sometimes  pursued  his  game  over  a  field  of  corn, 
but  he  hath  always  made  the  party  ample  satisfaction :  that 
so  far  from  tyrannizing  over  his  neighbours,  or  taking  away 
their  guns,  he  himself  knew  several  farmers  not  qualified,  who 
not  only  kept  guns,  but  killed  game  with  them;  that  he 
was  the  best  of  masters  to  his  servants,  and  several  of  them 
had  grown  old  in  his  service;  that  he  was  the  best  justice  of 
peace  in  the  kingdom,  and,  to  his  certain  knowledge,  had 
decided  many  difficult  points,  which  were  referred  to  him, 
with  the  greatest  equity  and  the  highest  wisdom ;  and  he 
verily  believed,  several  persons  would  give  a  year's  purchase 
more  for  an  estate  near  him,  than  under  the  wings  of  any 
other  great  man.  He  had  just  finished  his  encomium  when 
his  companion  returned  and  acquainted  him  the  storm  was 
over.  Upon  which  they  presently  mounted  their  horses  and 
departed. 

Adams,  who  was  in  the  utmost  anxiety  at  those  different 
characters  of  the  same  person,  asked  his  host  if  he  knew  the 
gentleman :  for  he  began  to  imagine  they  had  by  mistake 

78 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

been  speaking  of  two  several  gentlemen.  "  No,  no,  master," 
answered  the  host  (a  shrewd  cunning  fellow)  ;  "  I  know  the 
gentleman  very  well  of  whom  they  have  been  speaking,  as  I 
do  the  gentlemen  who  spoke  of  him.  As  for  riding  over 
other  men's  corn,  to  my  knowledge  he  hath  not  been  on 
horseback  these  two  years.  I  never  heard  he  did  any  injury 
of  that  kind ;  and  as  to  making  reparation,  he  is  not  so  free 
of  his  money  as  that  comes  to  neither.  Nor  did  I  ever  hear 
of  his  taking  away  any  man's  gun ;  nay,  I  know  several  who 
have  guns  in  their  houses ;  but  as  for  killing  game  with 
them,  no  man  is  stricter ;  and  I  believe  he  would  ruin  any 
who  did.  You  heard  one  of  the  gentlemen  say  he  was  the 
worst  master  in  the  world,  and  the  other  that  he  is  the  best; 
but  for  my  own  part,  I  know  all  his  servants,  and  never  heard 
from  any  of  them  that  he  was  either  one  or  the  other." — 
"  Aye !  aye !  "  says  Adams ;  "  and  how  doth  he  behave  as  a 
justice,  pray?  " — "  Faith,  friend,"  answered  the  host,  "  I  ques- 
tion whether  he  is  in  the  commission ;  the  only  cause  I  have 
heard  he  hath  decided  a  great  while,  was  one  between  those 
very  two  persons  who  just  went  out  of  this  house ;  and  I  am 
sure  he  determined  that  justly,  for  I  heard  the  whole  matter." 
— "Which  did  he  decide  it  in  favour  of?"  quoth  Adams. 
'  I  think  I  need  not  answer  that  question,"  cried  the  host, 
"  after  the  different  characters  you  have  heard  of  him.  It  is 
not  my  business  to  contradict  gentlemen  while  they  are 
drinking  in  my  house;  but  I  knew  neither  of  them  spoke  a 
syllable  of  truth." — "  God  forbid !  "  said  Adams,  "  that  men 
should  arrive  at  such  a  pitch  of  wickedness  to  belie  the  char- 
acter of  their  neighbour  from  a  little  private  affection,  or, 
what  is  infinitely  worse,  a  private  spite.  I  rather  believe  we 
have  mistaken  them,  and  they  mean  two  other  persons;  for 
there  are  many  houses  on  the  road." — "  Why,  prithee,  friend," 
cries  the  host,  "  dost  thou  pretend  never  to  have  told  a  lie  in 
thy  life  ?  " — "  Never  a  malicious  one,  I  am  certain,"  answered 
Adams,  "  nor  with  a  design  to  injure  the  reputation  of  any 
man  living." — "  Pugh  !  malicious  ;  no,  no,"  replied  the  host ; 
"  not  malicious  with  a  design  to  hang  a  man,  or  bring  him  into 
trouble ;  but  surely,  out  of  love  to  oneself,  one  must  speak 
better  of  a  friend  than  an  enemy." — "  Out  of  love  to  yourself, 
you  should  confine  yourself  to  truth,"  says  Adams,  "  for  by 

79 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

doing  otherwise  you  injure  the  noblest  part  of  yourself,  your 
immortal  soul.  I  can  hardly  believe  any  man  such  an  idiot 
to  risk  the  loss  of  that  by  any  trifling  gain,  and  the  greatest 
gain  in  this  world  is  but  dirt  in  comparison  of  what  shall  be 
revealed  hereafter."  Upon  which  the  host,  taking  up  the 
cup,  with  a  smile,  drank  a  health  to  hereafter ;  adding,  he 
was  for  something  present.  "  Why,"  says  Adams  very 
gravely,  "  do  not  you  believe  in  another  world  ?  "  To  which 
the  host  answered,  yes ;  he  was  no  atheist.  "  And  you  be- 
lieve you  have  an  immortal  soul  ?  "  cries  Adams.  He  an- 
swered, God  forbid  he  should  not.  "  And  heaven  and  hell  ?  " 
said  the  parson.  The  host  then  bid  him  not  to  profane ;  for 
those  were  things  not  to  be  mentioned  nor  thought  of  but  in 
church.  Adams  asked  him,  why  he  went  to  church,  if  what 
he  learned  there  had  no  influence  on  his  conduct  in  life? 
"  I  go  to  church,"  answered  the  host,  "  to  say  my  prayers 
and  behave  godly." — "  And  dost  not  thou,"  cried  Adams,  "  be- 
lieve what  thou  hearest  at  church?  " — "  Most  part  of  it,  mas- 
ter," returned  the  host.  "  And  dost  not  thou  then  tremble," 
cries  Adams,  "  at  the  thought  of  eternal  punishment  ?  " — "  As 
for  that,  master,"  said  he,  "  I  never  once  thought  about  it ; 
but  what  signifies  talking  about  matters  so  far  off  ?  The  mug 
is  out,  shall  I  draw  another?  " 

Whilst  he  was  going  for  that  purpose  a  stage-coach  drove 
up  to  the  door.  The  coachman  coming  into  the  house  was 
asked  by  the  mistress  what  passengers  he  had  in  his  coach? 
"  A  parcel  of  squinny-gut  b — s,"  says  he ;  "  I  have  a  good 
mind  to  overturn  them ;  you  won't  prevail  upon  them  to 
drink  anything,  I  assure  you."  Adams  asked  him,  if  he 
had  not  seen  a  young  man  on  horseback  on  the  road  (de- 
scribing Joseph).  "  Ay,"  said  the  coachman,  "  a  gentlewoman 
in  my  coach  that  is  his  acquaintance  redeemed  him  and  his 
horse;  he  would  have  been  here  before  this  time,  had  not 
the  storm  driven  him  to  shelter."  "  God  bless  her !  "  said 
Adams  in  a  rapture;  nor  could  he  delay  walking  out  to  sat- 
isfy himself  who  this  charitable  woman  was ;  but  what  was 
his  surprize  when  he  saw  his  old  acquaintance,  madam  Slip- 
slop? Hers  indeed  was  not  so  great,  because  she  had  been 
informed  by  Joseph  that  he  was  on  the  road.  Very  civil 
were  the  salutations  on  both  sides ;  and  Mrs  Slipslop  rebuked 

80 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

the  hostess  for  denying  the  gentleman  to  be  there  when  she 
asked  for  him ;  but  indeed  the  poor  woman  had  not  erred 
designedly;  for  Mrs  Slipslop  asked  for  a  clergyman,  and  she 
had  unhappily  mistaken  Adams  for  a  person  travelling  to  a 
neighbouring  fair  with  the  thimble  and  button,  or  some  other 
such  operation ;  for  he  marched  in  a  swinging  great  but  short 
white  coat  with  black  buttons,  a  short  wig,  and  a  hat  which, 
so  far  from  having  a  black  hatband,  had  nothing  black 
about  it. 

Joseph  was  now  come  up,  and  Mrs  Slipslop  would  have 
had  him  quit  his  horse  to  the  parson,  and  come  himself  into 
the  coach ;  but  he  absolutely  refused,  saying,  he  thanked 
Heaven  he  was  well  enough  recovered  to  be  very  able  to  ride 
and  added,  he  hoped  he  knew  his  duty  better  than  to  ride 
in  a  coach  while  Mr  Adams  was  on  horseback. 

Mrs  Slipslop  would  have  persisted  longer,  had  not  a  lady 
in  the  coach  put  a  short  end  to  the  dispute,  by  refusing  to 
suffer  a  fellow  in  a  livery  to  ride  in  the  same  coach  with 
herself;  so  it  was  at  length  agreed  that  Adams  should  fill 
the  vacant  place  in  the  coach,  and  Joseph  should  proceed  on 
horseback. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  before  Mrs  Slipslop,  address- 
ing herself  to  the  parson,  spoke  thus : — "  There  hath  been  a 
strange  alteration  in  our  family,  Mr  Adams,  since  Sir 
Thomas's  death."  "  A  strange  alteration  indeed,"  says  Adams, 
"  as  I  gather  from  some  hints  which  have  dropped  from  Jo- 
seph."— "  Ay,"  says  she,  "  I  could  never  have  believed  it ; 
but  the  longer  one  lives  in  the  world,  the  more  one  sees.  So 
Joseph  hath  given  you  hints."  "  But  of  what  nature  will 
always  remain  a  perfect  secret  with  me,"  cries  the  parson : 
"  he  forced  me  to  promise  before  he  would  communicate  any- 
thing. I  am  indeed  concerned  to  find  her  ladyship  behave 
in  so  unbecoming  a  manner.  I  always  thought  her  in  the 
main  a  good  lady,  and  should  never  have  suspected  her  of 
thoughts  so  unworthy  a  Christian,  and  with  a  young  lad  her 
own  servant."  "  These  things  are  no  secrets  to  me,  I  assure 
you,"  cries  Slipslop,  "  and  I  believe  they  will  be  none  any- 
where shortly ;  for  ever  since  the  boy's  departure  she  hath 
behaved  more  like  a  mad  woman  than  anything  else." 
1  Truly,  I  am  heartily  concerned,"  says  Adams,  "  for  she  was 
6  81 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

a  good  sort  of  a  lady.  Indeed,  I  have  often  wished  she  had 
attended  a  little  more  constantly  at  the  service,  but  she  hath 
done  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the  parish."  "  O  Mr  Adams," 
says  Slipslop,  "  people  that  don't  see  all  often  know  nothing. 
Many  things  have  been  given  away  in  our  family,  I  do  assure 
you,  without  her  knowledge.  I  have  heard  you  say  in  the 
pulpit  we  ought  not  to  brag;  but  indeed  I  can't  avoid  saying, 
if  she  had  kept  the  keys  herself,  the  poor  would  have  wanted 
many  a  cordial  which  I  have  let  them  have.  As  for  my  late 
master,  he  was  as  worthy  a  man  as  ever  lived,  and  would 
have  done  infinite  good  if  he  had  not  been  controlled ;  but 
he  loved  a  quiet  life,  Heaven  rest  his  soul !  I  am  confident 
he  is  there,  and  enjoys  a  quiet  life,  which  some  folks  would 
not  allow  him  here." — Adams  answered,  he  had  never  heard 
this  before,  and  was  mistaken  if  she  herself  (for  he  remem- 
bered she  used  to  commend  her  mistress  and  blame  her  mas- 
ter) had  not  formerly  been  of  another  opinion.  "  I  don't 
know,"  replied  she,  "  what  I  might  once  think ;  but  now  I 
am  confidous  matters  are  as  I  tell  you ;  the  world  will  shortly 
see  who  hath  been  deceived;  for  my  part,  I  say  nothing,  but 
that  it  is  wondersome  how  some  people  can  carry  all  things 
with  a  grave  face." 

Thus  Mr  Adams  and  she  discoursed,  till  they  came  op- 
posite to  a  great  house  which  stood  at  some  distance  from 
the  road :  a  lady  in  the  coach,  spying  it,  cried,  "  Yonder  lives 
the  unfortunate  Leonora,  if  one  can  justly  call  a  woman  un- 
fortunate whom  we  must  own  at  the  same  time  guilty  and 
the  author  of  her  own  calamity."  This  was  abundantly  suf- 
ficient to  awaken  the  curiosity  of  Mr  Adams,  as  indeed  it 
did  that  of  the  whole  company,  who  jointly  solicited  the 
lady  to  acquaint  them  with  Leonora's  history,  since  it  seemed, 
by  what  she  had  said,  to  contain  something  remarkable. 

The  lady  who  was  perfectly  well  bred,  did  not  require 
many  entreaties,  and  having  only  wished  their  entertainment 
might  make  amends  for  the  company's  attention,  she  began 
in  the  following  manner. 


82 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 
CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    HISTORY   OF    LEONORA,    OR    THE    UNFORTUNATE    JTLT. 

LEONORA  was  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  of  fortune ; 
4  she  was  tall  and  well-shaped,  with  a  sprightliness  in  her 
countenance  which  often  attracts  beyond  more  regular  fea- 
tures joined  with  an  insipid  air :  nor  is  this  kind  of  beauty 
less  apt  to  deceive  than  allure ;  the  good  humour  which  it  in- 
dicates being  often  mistaken  for  good  nature,  and  the  vivacity 
for  true  understanding. 

Leonora,  who  was  now  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  lived  with 
an  aunt  of  hers  in  a  town  in  the  north  of  England.  She 
was  an  extreme  lover  of  gaiety,  and  very  rarely  missed  a  ball 
or  any  other  public  assembly ;  where  she  had  frequent  op- 
portunities of  satisfying  a  greedy  appetite  of  vanity,  with  the 
preference  which  was  given  her  by  the  men  to  almost  every 
other  woman  present. 

Among  many  young  fellows  who  were  particular  in  their 
gallantries  towards  her,  Horatio  soon  distinguished  himself 
in  her  eyes  beyond  all  his  competitors ;  she  danced  with  more 
than  ordinary  gaiety  when  he  happened  to  be  her  partner; 
neither  the  fairness  of  the  evening,  nor  the  music  of  the 
nightingale,  could  lengthen  her  walk  like  his  company.  She 
affected  no  longer  to  understand  the  civilities  of  others  ;  whilst 
she  inclined  so  attentive  an  ear  to  every  compliment  of  Ho- 
ratio, that  she  often  smiled  even  when  it  was  too  delicate 
for  her  comprehension. 

'  Prav,    madam,"    says    Adams,    "  who    was    this    squire 
Horatio"?  " 

Horatio,  says  the  lady,  was  a  young  gentleman  of  a  good 
family,  bred  to  the  law,  and  had  been  some  few  years  called 
to  the  degree  of  a  barrister.  His  face  and  person  were  such 
as  the  generality  allowed  handsome ;  but  he  had  a  dignity  in 
his  air  very  rarely  to  be  seen.  His  temper  was  of  the  satur- 
nine complexion,  but  without  the  least  taint  of  moroseness. 
He  had  wit  and  humour,  with  an  inclination  to  satire,  which 
he  indulged  rather  too  much. 

This  gentleman,  who  had  contracted  the  most  violent  pas- 

&3 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

sion  for  Leonora,  was  the  last  person  who  perceived  the  prob- 
ability of  its  success.  The  whole  town  had  made  the  match 
for  him  before  he  himself  had  drawn  a  confidence  from  her 
actions  sufficient  to  mention  his  passion  to  her ;  for  it  was 
his  opinion  (and  perhaps  he  was  there  in  the  right)  that  it 
is  highly  impolitic  to  talk  seriously  of  love  to  a  woman  before 
you  have  made  such  a  progress  in  her  affections,  that  she  her- 
self expects  and  desires  to  hear  it. 

But  whatever  diffidence  the  fears  of  a  lover  may  create, 
which  are  apt  to  magnify  every  favour  conferred  on  a  rival, 
and  to  see  the  little  advances  towards  themselves  through  the 
other  end  of  the  perspective,  it  was  impossible  that  Horatio's 
passion  should  so  blind  his  discernment  as  to  prevent  his 
conceiving  hopes  from  the  behaviour  of  Leonora,  whose  fond- 
ness for  him  was  now  as  visible  to  an  indifferent  person  in 
their  company  as  his  for  her. 

"  I  never  knew  any  of  these  forward  sluts  come  to  good  " 
(says  the  lady  who  refused  Joseph's  entrance  into  the  coach), 
"  nor  shall  I  wonder  at  anything  she  doth  in  the  sequel." 

The  lady  proceeded  in  her  story  thus :  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  gay  conversation  in  the  walks  one  evening,  when  Horatio 
whispered  Leonora,  that  he  was  desirous  to  take  a  turn  or 
two  with  her  in  private,  for  that  he  had  something  to  com- 
municate to  her  of  great  consequence.  "  Are  you  sure  it  is 
of  consequence?"  said  she,  smiling.  "  I  hope,"  answered  he, 
"  you  will  think  so  too,  since  the  whole  future  happiness  of 
my  life  must  depend  on  the  event." 

Leonora,  who  very  much  suspected  what  was  coming, 
would  have  deferred  it  till  another  time ;  but  Horatio,  who 
had  more  than  half  conquered  the  difficulty  of  speaking  by 
the  first  motion,  was  so  very  importunate,  that  she  at  last 
yielded,  and,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  company,  they  turned 
aside  into  an  unfrequented  walk. 

They  had  retired  far  out  of  the  sight  of  the  company,  both 
maintaining  a  strict  silence.  At  last  Horatio  made  a  full 
stop,  and  taking  Leonora,  who  stood  pale  and  trembling, 
gently  by  the  hand,  he  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  and  then,  looking 
on  her  eyes  with  all  the  tenderness  imaginable,  he  cried  out 
in  a  faltering  accent,  "O  Leonora!  is  it  necessary  for  me 
to  declare  to  you  on  what  the  future  happiness  of  my  life 

84 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

must  be  founded  ?  Must  I  say,  there  is  something  belonging 
to  you  which  is  a  bar  to  my  happiness,  and  which  unless  you 
will  part  with,  I  must  be  miserable  !  "  — "  What  can  that  be  ?  " 
replied  Leonora.  "  No  wonder,"  said  he,  "  you  are  surprized 
that  I  should  make  an  objection  to  anything  which  is  yours: 
yet  sure  you  may  guess,  since  it  is  the  only  one  which  the 
riches  of  the  world,  if  they  were  mine,  should  purchase  for 
me.  Oh,  it  is  that  which  you  must  part  with  to  bestow  all 
the  rest !  Can  Leonora,  or  rather  will  she,  doubt  longer  ? 
Let  me  then  whisper  it  in  her  ears — It  is  your  name,  madam. 
It  is  by  parting  with  that,  by  your  condescension  to  be  for 
ever  mine,  which  must  at  once  prevent  me  from  being  the 
most  miserable,  and  will  render  me  the  happiest  of  man- 
kind." 

Leonora,  covered  with  blushes,  and  with  as  angry  a  look 
as  she  could  possibly  put  on,  told  him,  that  had  she  sus- 
pected what  his  declaration  would  have  been,  he  should  not 
have  decoyed  her  from  her  company,  that  he  had  so  surprized 
and  frighted  her,  that  she  begged  him  to  convey  her  back  as 
quick  as  possible ;  which  he,  trembling  very  near  as  much 
as  herself,  did. 

"  More  fool  he,"  cried  Slipslop ;  "  it  is  a  sign  he  knew  very 
little  of  our  sect." — "  Truly,  madam,"  said  Adams,  "  I  think 
you  are  in  the  right:  I  should  have  insisted  to  know  a  piece 
of  her  mind,  when  I  had  carried  matters  so  far."  But  Mrs 
Grave-airs  desired  the  lady  to  omit  all  such  fulsome  stuff  in 
her  story,  for  that  it  made  her  sick. 

Well  then,  madam,  to  be  as  concise  as  possible,  said  the 
lady,  many  weeks  had  not  passed  after  this  interview  before 
Horatio  and  Leonora  were  what  they  call  on  a  good  footing 
together.  All  ceremonies  except  the  last  were  now  over ; 
the  writings  were  now  drawn,  and  everything  was  in  the 
utmost  forwardness  preparative  to  the  putting  Horatio  in 
possession  of  all  his  wishes.  I  will,  if  you  please,  repeat  you  a 
letter  from  each  of  them,  which  I  have  got  by  heart,  and  which 
will  give  you  no  small  idea  of  their  passion  on  both  sides. 

Mrs  Grave-airs  objected  to  hearing  these  letters;  but  being 
put  to  the  vote,  it  was  carried  against  her  by  all  the  rest  in 
the  coach ;  parson  Adams  contending  for  it  with  the  utmost 
vehemence. 

85 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 


HORATIO  TO  LEONORA. 


"  How  vain,  most  adorable  creature,  is  the  pursuit  of  plea- 
sure in  the  absence  of  an  object  to  which  the  mind  is  entirely 
devoted,  unless  it  have  some  relation  to  that  object!  I  was 
last  night  condemned  to  the  society  of  men  of  wit  and  learn- 
ing, which,  however  agreeable  it  might  have  formerly  been  to 
me,  now  only  gave  me  a  suspicion  that  they  imputed  my  ab- 
sence in  conversation  to  the  true  cause.  For  which  reason, 
when  your  engagements  forbid  me  the  ecstatic  happiness  of 
seeing  you,  I  am  always  desirous  to  be  alone ;  since  my  senti- 
ments for  Leonora  are  so  delicate,  that  I  cannot  bear  the 
apprehension  of  another's  prying  into  those  delightful  endear- 
ments with  which  the  warm  imagination  of  a  lover  will  some- 
times indulge  him,  and  which  I  suspect  my  eyes  then  betray. 
To  fear  this  discovery  of  our  thoughts  may  perhaps  appear  too 
ridiculous  a  nicety  to  minds  not  susceptible  of  all  the  tender- 
nesses of  this  delicate  passion.  And  surely  we  shall  suspect 
there  are  few  such,  when  we  consider  that  it  requires  every 
human  virtue  to  exert  itself  in  its  full  extent;  since  the  be- 
loved, whose  happiness  it  ultimately  respects,  may  give  us 
charming  opportunities  of  being  brave  in  her  defence,  gener- 
ous to  her  wants,  compassionate  to  her  afflictions,  grateful  to 
her  kindness ;  and  in  the  same  manner,  of  exercising  every 
other  virtue,  which  he  who  would  not  do  to  any  degree,  and 
that  with  the  utmost  rapture,  can  never  deserve  the  name  of 
a  lover.  It  is,  therefore,  with  a  view  to  the  delicate  modesty 
of  your  mind  that  I  cultivate  it  so  purely  in  my  own ;  and  it 
is  that  which  will  sufficiently  suggest  to  you  the  uneasiness 
I  bear  from  those  liberties,  which  men  to  whom  the  world 
allow  politeness  will  sometimes  give  themselves  on  these  oc- 
casions. 

"  Can  I  tell  you  with  what  eagerness  I  expect  the  arrival 
of  that  blest  day,  when  I  shall  experience  the  falsehood  of  a 
common  assertion,  that  the  greatest  human  happiness  consists 
in  hope?  A  doctrine  which  no  person  had  ever  stronger  rea- 
son to  believe  than  myself  at  present,  since  none  ever  tasted 
such  bliss  as  fires  my  bosom  with  the  thoughts  of  spending 
my  future  days  with  such  a  companion,  and  that  every  action 

86 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

of  my  life  will  have  the  glorious  satisfaction  of  conducing  to 
your  happiness." 

LEONORA  TO  HORATIO.* 

"  The  refinement  of  your  mind  has  been  so  evidently 
proved  by  every  word  and  action  ever  since  I  had  the  first 
pleasure  of  knowing  you,  that  I  thought  it  impossible  my  good 
opinion  of  Horatio  could  have  been  heightened  to  any  addi- 
tional proof  of  merit.  This  very  thought  was  my  amusement 
when  I  received  your  last  letter,  which,  when  I  opened,  I  con- 
fess I  was  surprized  to  find  the  delicate  sentiments  expressed 
there  so  far  exceeding  what  I  thought  could  come  even  from 
you  (although  I  know  all  the  generous  principles  human  na- 
ture is  capable  of  are  centred  in  your  breast),  that  words 
cannot  paint  what  I  feel  on  the  reflection  that  my  happiness 
shall  be  the  ultimate  end  of  all  your  actions. 

"  Oh,  Horatio !  what  a  life  must  that  be,  where  the  meanest 
domestic  cares  are  sweetened  by  the  pleasing  consideration 
that  the  man  on  earth  who  best  deserves,  and  to  whom  you 
are  most  inclined  to  give  your  affections,  is  to  reap  either 
profit  or  pleasure  from  all  you  do !  In  such  a  case  toils  must 
be  turned  into  diversions,  and  nothing  but  the  unavoidable 
inconveniences  of  life  can  make  us  remember  that  we  are 
mortal. 

"  If  the  solitary  turn  of  your  thoughts,  and  the  desire  of 
keeping  them  undiscovered,  makes  even  the  conversation  of 
men  of  wit  and  learning  tedious  to  you,  what  anxious  hours 
must  I  spend,  who  am  condemned  by  custom  to  the  conver- 
sation of  women,  whose  natural  curiosity  leads  them  to  pry 
into  all  my  thoughts,  and  whose  envy  can  never  suffer 
Horatio's  heart  to  be  possessed  by  any  one,  without  forcing 
them  into  malicious  designs  against  the  person  who  is  so 
happy  as  to  possess  it !  But,  indeed,  if  ever  envy  can  possibly 
have  any  excuse,  or  even  alleviation,  it  is  in  this  case,  where 
the  good  is  so  great,  and  it  must  be  equally  natural  to  all 
to  wish  it  for  themselves ;  nor  am  I  ashamed  to  own  it :  and 
to  your  merit,  Horatio,  I  am  obliged,  that  prevents  my  be- 
ing in  that  most  uneasy  of  all  the  situations  I  can  figure 

*  This  letter  was  written  by  a  young  lady  on  reading  the  former. 

87 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

in  my  imagination,  of  being  led  by  inclination  to  love  the 
person  whom  my  own  judgment  forces  me  to  condemn." 

Matters  were  in  so  great  forwardness  between  this  fond 
couple,  that  the  day  was  fixed  for  their  marriage,  and  was 
now  within  a  fortnight,  when  the  sessions  chanced  to  be 
held  for  that  county  in  a  town  about  twenty  miles'  distance 
from  that  which  is  the  scene  of  our  story.  It  seems,  it  is 
usual  for  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  bar  to  repair  to  these 
sessions,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  profit  as  to  show  their 
parts  and  learn  the  law  of  the  justices  of  peace;  for  which 
purpose  one  of  the  wisest  and  gravest  of  all  the  justices  is 
appointed  speaker,  or  chairman,  as  they  modestly  call  it,  and 
he  reads  them  a  lecture,  and  instructs  them  in  the  true  know- 
ledge of  the  law. 

"  You  are  here  guilty  of  a  little  mistake,"  says  Adams, 
"  which,  if  you  please,  I  will  correct :  I  have  attended  at  one 
of  these  quarter-sessions,  where  I  observed  the  counsel  taught 
the  justices,  instead  of  learning  anything  of  them." 

It  is  not  very  material,  said  the  lady.  Hither  repaired 
Horatio,  who,  as  he  hoped  by  his  profession  to  advance  his 
fortune,  which  was  not  at  present  very  large,  for  the  sake  of 
his  dear  Leonora,  he  resolved  to  spare  no  pains,  nor  lose  any 
opportunity  of  improving  or  advancing  himself  in  it. 

The  same  afternoon  in  which  he  left  the  town,  as  Leonora 
stood  at  her  window,  a  coach  and  six  passed  by,  which  she 
declared  to  be  the  completest,  genteelest,  prettiest  equipage 
she  ever  saw ;  adding  these  remarkable  words,  "  O,  I  am  in 
love  with  that  equipage !  "  which,  though  her  friend  Florella 
at  that  time  did  not  greatly  regard,  she  hath  since  remem- 
bered. 

In  the  evening  an  assembly  was  held,  which  Leonora  hon- 
oured with  her  company ;  but  intended  to  pay  her  dear  Ho- 
ratio the  compliment  of  refusing  to  dance  in  his  absence. 

O,  why  have  not  women  as  good  resolution  to  maintain 
their  vows  as  they  have  often  good  inclinations  in  making 
them ! 

The  gentleman  who  owned  the  coach  and  six  came  to  the 
assembly.  His  clothes  were  as  remarkably  fine  as  his  equi- 
page could  be.     He  soon  attracted  the  eyes  of  the  company; 

88 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

all  the  smarts,  all  the  silk  waistcoats  with  silver  and  gold 
edgings,  were  eclipsed  in  an  instant. 

"  Madam,"  said  Adams,  "  if  it  be  not  impertinent,  I  should 
be  glad  to  know  how  this  gentleman  was  drest." 

Sir,  answered  the  lady,  I  have  been  told  he  had  on  a  cut 
velvet  coat  of  a  cinnamon  colour,  lined  with  a  pink  satin, 
embroidered  all  over  with  gold ;  his  waistcoat,  which  was 
cloth  of  silver,  was  embroidered  with  gold  likewise.  I  can- 
not be  particular  as  to  the  rest  of  his  dress ;  but  it  was  all  in 
the  French  fashion,  for  Bellarmine  (that  was  his  name)  was 
just  arrived  from  Paris. 

This  fine  figure  did  not  more  entirely  engage  the  eyes  oi 
every  lady  in  the  assembly  than  Leonora  did  his.  He  had 
scarce  beheld  her,  but  he  stood  motionless  and  fixed  as  a 
statue,  or  at  least  would  have  done  so  if  good  breeding  had 
permitted  him.  However,  he  carried  it  so  far  before  he  had 
power  to  correct  himself,  that  every  person  in  the  room  easily 
discovered  where  his  admiration  was  settled.  The  other  ladies 
began  to  single  out  their  former  partners,  all  perceiving  who 
would  be  Bellarmine's  choice ;  which  they  however  endea- 
voured, by  all  possible  means,  to  prevent :  many  of  them  say- 
ing to  Leonora,  "  O  madam !  I  suppose  we  shan't  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  dance  to-night ;  "  and  then  crying  out, 
in  Bellarmine's  hearing,  "  O !  Leonora  will  not  dance,  I  assure 
you :  her  partner  is  not  here."  One  maliciously  attempted  to 
prevent  her,  by  sending  a  disagreeable  fellow  to  ask  her,  that 
so  she  might  be  obliged  either  to  dance  with  him,  or  sit  down ; 
but  this  scheme  proved  abortive. 

Leonora  saw  herself  admired  by  the  fine  stranger,  and 
envied  by  every  woman  present.  Her  little  heart  began  to 
flutter  within  her,  and  her  head  was  agitated  with  a  convul- 
sive motion :  she  seemed  as  if  she  would  speak  to  several  of 
her  acquaintance,  but  had  nothing  to  say ;  for,  as  she  would 
not  mention  her  present  triumph,  so  she  could  not  disengage 
her  thoughts  one  moment  from  the  contemplation  of  it.  She 
had  never  tasted  anything  like  this  happiness.  She  had  be- 
fore known  what  it  was  to  torment  a  single  woman ;  but  to  be 
hated  and  secretly  cursed- by  a  whole  assembly  was  a  joy 
reserved  for  this  blessed  moment.  As  this  vast  profusion 
of  ecstasy  had  confounded  her  understanding,  so  there  was 

89 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

nothing  so  foolish  as  her  behaviour :  she  played  a  thousand 
childish  tricks,  distorted  her  person  into  several  shapes,  and 
her  face  into  several  laughs,  without  any  reason.  In  a  word, 
her  carriage  was  as  absurd  as  her  desires,  which  were  to 
affect  an  insensibility  of  the  stranger's  admiration,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  triumph  from  that  admiration,  over  every  woman 
in  the  room. 

In  this  temper  of  mind,  Bellarmine,  having  inquired  who 
she  was,  advanced  to  her,  and  with  a  low  bow  begged  the 
honour  of  dancing  with  her,  which  she,  with  as  low  a  curtesy, 
immediately  granted.  She  danced  with  him  all  night,  and 
enjoyed  perhaps  the  highest  pleasure  that  she  was  capable  of 
feeling. 

At  these  words,  Adams  fetched  a  deep  groan,  which 
frighted  the  ladies,  who  told  him,  they  hoped  he  was  not 
ill.     He  answered,  he  groaned  only  for  the  folly  of  Leonora. 

Leonora  retired  (continued  the  lady)  about  six  in  the 
morning,  but  not  to  rest.  She  tumbled  and  tossed  in  her 
bed,  with  very  short  intervals  of  sleep,  and  those  entirely 
filled  with  dreams  of  the  equipage  and  fine  clothes  she  had 
seen,  and  the  balls,  operas,  and  ridottos,  which  had  been  the 
subject  of  their  conversation. 

In  the  afternoon  Bellarmine,  in  the  dear  coach  and  six, 
came  to  wait  on  her.  He  was  indeed  charmed  with  her 
person,  and  was,  on  inquiry,  so  well  pleased  with  the  cir- 
cumstances of  her  father  (for  he  himself,  notwithstanding  all 
his  finery,  was  not  quite  so  rich  as  a  Crcesus  or  an  Attalus). 
— "  Attalus,"  says  Mr  Adams :  "  but  pray  how  came  you  ac- 
quainted with  these  names  ?  "  The  lady  smiled  at  the  question, 
and  proceeded.  He  was  so  pleased,  I  say,  that  he  resolved 
to  make  his  addresses  to  her  directly.  He  did  so  accordingly, 
and  that  with  so  much  warmth  and  briskness,  that  he  quickly 
baffled  her  weak  repulses,  and  obliged  the  lady  to  refer  him 
to  her  father,  who,  she  knew,  would  quickly  declare  in  favour 
of  a  coach  and  six. 

Thus  what  Horatio  had  by  sighs  and  tears,  love  and  ten- 
derness, been  so  long  obtaining,  the  French-English  Bellar- 
mine with  gaiety  and  gallantry  possessed  himself  of  in  an 
instant.  In  other  words,  what  modesty  had  employed  a  full 
year  in  raising,  impudence  demolished  in  twenty-four  hours. 

90 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

Here  Adams  groaned  a  second  time ;  but  the  ladies,  who 
began  to  smoke,  took  no  notice. 

From  the  opening  of  the  assembly  till  the  end  of  Bellar- 
mine's visit,  Leonora  had  scarce  one  thought  of  Horatio; 
but  he  now  began,  though  an  unwelcome  guest,  to  enter 
into  her  mind.  She  wished  she  had  seen  the  charming  Bel- 
larmine  and  his  charming  equipage  before  matters  had  gone 
so  far.  '  Yet  why,"  says  she,  "  should  I  wish  to  have  seen 
him  before ;  or  what  signifies  it  that  I  have  seen  him  now  ? 
Is  not  Horatio  my  lover,  almost  my  husband?  Is  he  not  as 
handsome,  nay  handsomer,  than  Bellarmine?  Ay,  but  Bel- 
larmine  is  the  genteeler,  and  the  finer  man ;  yes,  that  he  must 
be  allowed.  Yes,  yes,  he  is  that  certainly.  But  did  not  I, 
no  longer  ago  than  yesterday,  love  Horatio  more  than  all 
the  world?  Ay,  but  yesterday  I  had  not  seen  Bellarmine. 
But  doth  not  Horatio  dote  on  me,  and  may  he  not  in  despair 
break  his  heart  if  I  abandon  him?  Well,  and  hath  not  Bel- 
larmine a  heart  to  break  too?  Yes,  but  I  promised  Horatio 
first ;  but  that  was  poor  Bellarmine's  misfortune ;  if  I  had 
seen  him  first,  I  should  certainly  have  preferred  him.  Did  not 
the  dear  creature  prefer  me  to  every  woman  in  the  assembly, 
when  every  she  was  laying  out  for  him?  When  was  it  in 
Horatio's  power  to  give  me  such  an  instance  of  affection? 
Can  he  give  me  an  equipage,  or  any  of  those  things  which 
Bellarmine  will  make  me  mistress  of?  How  vast  is  the 
difference  between  being  the  wife  of  a  poor  counsellor  and 
the  wife  of  one  of  Bellarmine's  fortune !  Jf  I  marry  Horatio, 
I  shall  triumph  over  no  more  than  one  rival ;  but  by  marry- 
ing Bellarmine  I  shall  be  the  envy  of  all  my  acquaintance. 
\\  nat  happiness !  But  can  I  suffer  Horatio  to  die  ?  for  he 
hath  sworn  he  cannot  survive  my  loss :  but  perhaps  he  may 
not  die:  if  he  should,  can  I  prevent  it?  Must  I  sacrifice 
myself  to  him?  besides,  Bellarmine  may  be  as  miserable  for 
me  too."  She  was  thus  arguing  with  herself,  when  some 
young  ladies  called  her  to  the  walks,  and  a  little  relieved  her 
anxiety  for  the  present. 

The  next  morning  Bellarmine  breakfasted  with  her  in  pres- 
ence of  her  aunt,  whom  he  sufficiently  informed  of  his  passion 
for  Leonora.  He  was  no  sooner  withdrawn  than  the  old 
lady  began  to  advise  her  niece  on  this  occasion.     "  You  see, 

91 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

child,"  says  she,  "  what  fortune  hath  thrown  in  your  way ; 
and  I  hope  you  will  not  withstand  your  own  preferment." 
Leonora,  sighing,  begged  her  not  to  mention  any  such  thing, 
when  she  knew  her  engagements  to  Horatio.  "  Engagements 
to  a  fig !  "  cried  the  aunt ;  "  you  should  thank  Heaven  on 
your  knees  that  you  have  it  yet  in  your  power  to  break  them. 
Will  any  woman  hesitate  a  moment  whether  she  shall  ride 
in  a  coach  or  walk  on  foot  all  the  days  of  her  life?  But 
Bellarmine  drives  six,  and  Horatio  not  even  a  pair." — "  Yes, 
but,  madam,  what  will  the  world  say  ?  "  answered  Leonora : 
"  will  not  they  condemn  me?  " — "  The  world  is  always  on  the 
side  of  prudence,"  cries  the  aunt,  "  and  would  surely  condemn 
you  if  you  sacrificed  your  interest  to  any  motive  whatever. 
O  !  I  know  the  world  very  well ;  and  you  show  your  ignorance, 
my  dear,  by  your  objection.  O'  my  conscience!  the  world 
is  wiser.  I  have  lived  longer  in  it  than  you ;  and  I  assure  you 
there  is  not  anything  worth  our  regard  besides  money;  nor 
did  I  ever  know  one  person  who  married  from  other  con- 
siderations, who  did  not  afterwards  heartily  repent  it.  Be- 
sides, if  we  examine  the  two  men,  can  you  prefer  a  sneaking 
fellow,  who  hath  been  bred  at  the  University,  to  a  fine  gentle- 
man just  come  from  his  travels?  All  the  world  must  allow 
Bellarmine  to  be'a  fine  gentleman,  positively  a  fine  gentleman, 
and  a  handsome  man." — "  Perhaps,  madam,  I  should  not 
doubt,  if  I  knew  how  to  be  handsomely  off  with  the  other." 
— "  O !  leave  that  to  me,"  says  the  aunt.  "  You  know  your 
father  hath  not  been  acquainted  with  the  affair.  Indeed,  for 
my  part  I  thought  it  might  do  well  enough,  not  dreaming 
of  such  an  offer ;  but  I'll  disengage  you :  leave  me  to  give  the 
fellow  an  answer.  I  warrant  you  shall  have  no  farther 
trouble." 

Leonora  was  at  length  satisfied  with  her  aunt's  reasoning; 
and  Bellarmine  supping  with  her  that  evening,  it  was  agreed 
he  should  the  next  morning  go  to  her  father  and  propose  the 
match,  which  she  consented  should  be  consummated  at  his 
return. 

The  aunt  retired  soon  after  supper;  and,  the  lovers  being 
left  together,  Bellarmine  began  in  the  following  manner : 
"  Yes,  madam ;  this  coat,  I  assure  you,  was  made  at  Paris, 
and  I  defy  the  best  English  tailor  even  to  imitate  it.    There 

92 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

is  not  one  of  them  can  cut,  madam ;  they  can't  cut.  If  you 
observe  how  this  skirt  is  turned,  and  this  sleeve :  a  clumsy 
English  rascal  can  do  nothing-  like  it.  Pray,  how  do  you 
like  my  liveries  ?  "  Leonora  answered,  she  thought  them  very 
pretty.  "  All  French,"  says  he,  "  I  assure  you,  except  the 
great-coats ;  I  never  trust  anything  more  than  a  great-coat 
to  an  Englishman.  You  know  one  must  encourage  our  own 
people  what  one  can,  especially  as,  before  I  had  a  place,  I 
was  in  the  country  interest,  he,  he,  he !  But  for  myself,  I 
would  see  the  dirty  island  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  rather 
than  wear  a  single  rag  of  English  work  about  me :  and  I  am 
sure,  after  you  have  made  one  tour  to  Paris,  you  will  be  of 
the  same  opinion  with  regard  to  your  own  clothes.  You  can't 
conceive  what  an  addition  a  French  dress  would  be  to  your 
beauty ;  I  positively  assure  you,  at  the  first  opera  I  saw  since 
I  came  over,  I  mistook  the  English  ladies  for  chamber- 
maids, he,  he,  he !  " 

With  such  sort  of  polite  discourse  did  the  gay  Bellarmine 
entertain  his  beloved  Leonora,  when  the  door  opened  on  a 
sudden,  and  Horatio  entered  the  room.  Here  'tis  impossible 
to  express  the  surprize  of  Leonora. 

'  Poor  woman ! "  says  Mrs  Slipslop,  "  what  a  terrible 
quandary  she  must  be  in !  " — "  Not  at  all,"  says  Mrs  Grave- 
airs  ;  "  such  sluts  can  never  be  confounded." — "  She  must 
have  then  more  than  Corinthian  assurance,"  said  Adams; 
"  ay,  more  than  Lais  herself." 

A  long  silence,  continued  the  lady,  prevailed  in  the  whole 
company.  If  the  familiar  entrance  of  Horatio  struck  the 
greatest  astonishment  into  Bellarmine,  the  unexpected  pres- 
ence of  Bellarmine  no  less  surprized  Horatio.  At  length  Leo- 
nora, collecting  all  the  spirit  she  was  mistress  of,  addressed 
herself  to  the  latter,  and  pretended  to  wonder  at  the  reason 
of  so  late  a  visit.  "  I  should,  indeed,"  answered  he,  "  have 
made  some  apology  for  disturbing  you  at  this  hour,  had  not 
my  finding  you  in  company  assured  me  I  do  not  break  in 
upon  your  repose."  Bellarmine  rose  from  his  chair,  traversed 
the  room  in  a  minuet  step,  and  hummed  an  opera  tune,  while 
Horatio,  advancing  to  Leonora,  asked  her  in  a  whisper  if  that 
gentleman  was  not  a  relation  of  hers ;  to  which  she  answered 
with  a  smile,  or  rather  sneer,  "  No,  he  is  no  relation  of  mine 

93 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

vet ;  "  adding  "  she  could  not  guess  the  meaning  of  his  ques- 
tion." Horatio  told  her  softly,  it  did  not  arise  from  jeal- 
ousy.— "  Jealousy !  I  assure  you,  it  would  be  very  strange 
in  a  common  acquaintance  to  give  himself  any  of  those  airs." 
These  words  a  little  surprized  Horatio ;  but,  before  he  had 
time  to  answer,  Bellarmine  danced  up  to  the  lady  and  told 
her,  he  feared  he  interrupted  some  business  between  her 
and  the  gentleman.  "  I  can  have  no  business,"  said  she,  "  with 
the  gentleman,  nor  any  other,  which  need  be  any  secret  to 
you." 

"  You'll  pardon  me,"  said  Horatio,  "  if  I  desire  to  know 
who  this  gentleman  is  who  is  to  be  intrusted  with  all  our 
secrets." — "  You'll  know  soon  enough,"  cries  Leonora ;  "  but 
I  can't  guess  what  secrets  can  ever  pass  between  us  of  such 
mighty  consequence." — "  No,  madam  !  "  cries  Horatio  ;  "  I  am 
sure  you  would  not  have  me  understand  you  in  earnest." — 
"  'Tis  indifferent  to  me,"  says  she,  "  how  you  understand  me ; 
but  I  think  so  unseasonable  a  visit  is  difficult  to  be  understood 
at  all,  at  least  when  people  find  one  engaged :  though  one's 
servants  do  not  deny  one,  one  may  expect  a  well-bred  person 
should  soon  take  the  hint."  "  Madam,"  said  Horatio,  "  I  did 
not  imagine  any  engagement  with  a  stranger,  as  it  seems  this 
gentleman  is,  would  have  made  my  visit  impertinent,  or  that 
any  such  ceremonies  were  to  be  preserved  between  persons 
in  our  situation."  "  Sure  you  are  in  a  dream,"  says  she,  "  or 
would  persuade  me  that  I  am  in  one.  I  know  no  pretensions 
a  common  acquaintance  can  have  to  lay  aside  the  ceremonies 
of  good  breeding."  "  Sure,"  said  he,  "  I  am  in  a  dream ;  for 
it  is  impossible  I  should  be  really  esteemed  a  common  ac- 
quaintance by  Leonora,  after  what  has  passed  between  us  ?  " 
"  Passed  between  us !  Do  you  intend  to  affront  me  before 
this  gentleman?  "  "  D — n  me,  affront  the  lady,"  says  Bellar- 
mine, cocking  his  hat,  and  strutting  up  to  Horatio :  "  does 
any  man  dare  affront  this  lady  before  me,  d — n  me  ? " 
"  Hark'ee,  sir,"  says  Horatio,  "  I  would  advise  you  to  lay 
aside  that  fierce  air;  for  I  am  mightily  deceived  if  this  lady 
has  not  a  violent  desire  to  get  your  worship  a  good  drubbing." 
"  Sir,"  said  Bellarmine,  "  I  have  the  honour  to  be  her  protec- 
tor; and,  d — n  me,  if  I  understand  your  meaning."  "Sir," 
answered  Horatio,  "  she  is  rather  your  protectress ;  but  give 

94 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

yourself  no  more  airs,  for  you  see  I  am  prepared  for  you" 
(shaking  his  whip  at  him).  "Oh!  serviteur  tres  humble," 
says  Bellarmine:  "  Je  vous  attend  pa/rfaitment  bicn."  At 
which  time  the  aunt,  who  had  heard  of  Horatio's  visit,  entered 
the  room,  and  soon  satisfied  all  his  doubts.  She  convinced 
him  that  he  was  never  more  awake  in  his  life,  and  that  nothing 
more  extraordinary  had  happened  in  his  three  days'  absence 
than  a  small  alteration  in  the  affections  of  Leonora ;  who  now 
burst  into  tears,  and  wondered  what  reason  she  had  given 
him  to  use  her  in  so  barbarous  a  manner.  Horatio  desired 
Bellarmine  to  withdraw  with  him;  but  the  ladies  prevented 
it  by  laying  violent  hands  on  the  latter;  upon  which  the 
former  took  his  leave  without  any  great  ceremony,  and  de- 
parted, leaving  the  lady  with  his  rival  to  consult  for  his 
safety,  which  Leonora  feared  her  indiscretion  might  have 
endangered ;  but  the  aunt  comforted  her  with  assurances  that 
Horatio  would  not  venture  his  person  against  so  accomplished 
a  cavalier  as  Bellarmine,  and  that,  being  a  lawyer,  he  would 
seek  revenge  in  his  own  way,  and  the  most  they  had  to  appre- 
hend from  him  was  an  action. 

They  at  length  therefore  agreed  to  permit  Bellarmine  to 
retire  to  his  lodgings,  having  first  settled'all  matters  relating 
to  the  journey  which  he  was  to  undertake  in  the  morning, 
and  their  preparations  for  the  nuptials  at  his  return. 

But,  alas !  as  wise  men  have  observed,  the  seat  of  valour 
is  not  the  countenance;  and  many  a  grave  and  plain  man 
will,  on  a  just  provocation,  betake  himself  to  that  mischievous 
metal,  cold  iron ;  while  men  of  a  fiercer  brow,  and  sometimes 
with  that  emblem  of  courage,  a  cockade,  will  more  prudently 
decline  it. 

Leonora  was  waked  in  the  morning,  from  a  visionary  coach 
and  six,  with  the  dismal  account  that  Bellarmine  was  run 
through  the  body  by  Horatio ;  that  he  lay  languishing  at  an 
inn,  and  the  surgeons  had  declared  the  wound  mortal.  She 
immediately  leaped  out  of  the  bed,  danced  about  the  room  in 
a  frantic  manner,  tore  her  hair  and  beat  her  breast  in  all  the 
agonies  of  despair;  in  which  sad  condition  her  aunt,  who 
likewise  arose  at  the  news,  found  her.  The  good  old  lady 
applied  her  utmost  art  to  comfort  her  niece.  She  told  her, 
while  there  was  life  there  was  hope;  but  that  if  he  should 

95 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

die  her  affliction  would  be  of  no  service  to  Bellarmine,  and 
would  only  expose  herself,  which  might,  probably,  keep  her 
some  time  without  any  future  offer;  that,  as  matters  had 
happened,  her  wisest  way  would  be  to  think  no  more  of 
Bellarmine,  but  to  endeavour  to  regain  the  affections  of  Ho- 
ratio." "  Speak  not  to  me,"  cried  the  disconsolate  Leonora ; 
"  is  it  not  owing  to  me  that  poor  Bellarmine  has  lost  his  life? 
Have  not  these  cursed  charms  (at  which  words  she  looked 
steadfastly  in  the  glass)  been  the  ruin  of  the  most  charming 
man  of  this  age?  Can  I  ever  bear  to  contemplate  my  own 
face  again  (with  her  eyes  still  fixed  on  the  glass)  ?  Am  I 
not  the  murderess  of  the  finest  gentleman  ?  No  other  woman 
in  the  town  could  have  made  any  impression  on  him." 
"  Never  think  of  things  past,"  cries  the  aunt :  "  think  of  re- 
gaining the  affections  of  Horatio."  "  What  reason,"  said  the 
niece,  "  have  I  to  hope  he  would  forgive  me  ?  No,  I  have 
lost  him  as  well  as  the  other,  and  it  was  your  wicked  advice 
which  was  the  occasion  of  all ;  you  seduced  me,  contrary  to 
my  inclinations,  to  abandon  poor  Horatio  (at  which  words 
she  burst  into  tears)  ;  you  prevailed  upon  me,  whether  I 
would  or  no,  to  give  up  my  affections  for  him ;  had  it  not 
been  for  you  Bellarmine  never  would  have  entered  into  my 
thoughts ;  had  not  his  addresses  been  backed  by  your  persua- 
sions they  never  would  have  made  any  impression  on  me ; 
I  should  have  defied  all  the  fortune  and  equipage  in  the 
world ;  but  it  was  you,  it  was  you,  who  got  the  better  of  my 
youth  and  simplicity,  and  forced  me  to  lose  my  dear  Horatio 
for  ever." 

The  aunt  was  almost  borne  down  with  this  torrent  of 
words ;  she  however  rallied  all  the  strength  she  could,  and, 
drawing  her  mouth  up  in  a  purse,  began :  "  I  am  not  sur- 
prized, niece,  at  this  ingratitude.  Those  who  advise  young 
women  for  their  interest  must  always  expect  such  a  return : 
I  am  convinced  my  brother  will  thank  me  for  breaking  off 
your  match  with  Horatio  at  any  rate." — "  That  may  not  be 
in  your  power  yet,"  answered  Leonora,  "  though  it  is  very 
ungrateful  in  you  to  desire  or  attempt  it,  after  the  presents 
you  have  received  from  him."  (For  indeed  true  it  is,  that 
many  presents,  and  some  pretty  valuable  ones,  had  passed 
from  Horatio  to  the  old  lady;  but  as  true  it  is,  that  Bellar- 

96 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

mine,  when  he  breakfasted  with  her  and  her  niece,  had  com- 
plimented her  with  a  brilliant  from  his  finger,  of  much  greater 
value  than  all  she  had  touched  of  the  other.) 

The  aunt's  gall  was  on  float  to  reply,  when  a  servant  brought 
a  letter  into  the  room,  which  Leonora,  hearing  it  came  from 
Bellarmine,  with  great  eagerness  opened,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  Most  divine  Creature, — The  wound  which  I  fear  you 
have  heard  I  received  from  my  rival  is  not  like  to  be  so  fatal 
as  those  shot  into  my  heart  which  have  been  fired  from  your 
eyes,  tout  brilliant.  Those  are  the  only  cannons  by  which 
I  am  to  fall !  for  my  surgeon  gives  me  hopes  of  being  soon 
able  to  attend  your  ruclle;  till  when,  unless  you  would  do 
me  an  honour  which  I  have  scarce  the  hardiesse  to  think  of, 
your  absence  will  be  the  greatest  anguish  which  can  be  felt 
by,  madam,  avec  toute  le  respecte  in  the  world,  your  most 
obedient,  most  absolute  devote,  Bellarmine." 

As  soon  as  Leonora  perceived  such  hopes  of  Bellarmine's 
recovery,  and  that  the  gossip  Fame  had,  according  to  custom, 
so  enlarged  his  danger,  she  presently  abandoned  all  further 
thoughts  of  Horatio,  and  was  soon  reconciled  to  her  aunt, 
who  received  her  again  into  favour,  with  a  more  Christian 
forgiveness  than  we  generally  meet  with.  Indeed,  it  is  pos- 
sible she  might  be  a  little  alarmed  at  the  hints  which  her 
niece  had  given  her  concerning  the  presents.  She  might  ap- 
prehend such  rumours,  should  they  get  abroad,  might  injure 
a  reputation  which,  by  frequenting  church  twice  a-day,  and 
preserving  the  utmost  rigour  and  strictness  in  her  counte- 
nance and  behaviour  for  many  years,  she  had  established. 

Leonora's  passion  returned  now  for  Bellarmine  with 
greater  force,  after  its  small  relaxation,  than  ever.  She  pro- 
posed to  her  aunt  to  make  him  a  visit  in  his  confinement, 
which  the  old  lady,  with  great  and  commendable  prudence, 
advised  her  to  decline :  "  For,"  says  she,  "  should  any  accident 
intervene  to  prevent  your  intended  match,  too  forward  a  be- 
haviour with  this  lover  may  injure  you  in  the  eyes  of  others. 
Every  woman,  till  she  is  married,  ought  to  consider  of,  and 
provide  against,  the  possibility  of  the  affair's  breaking  off." 
Leonora  said,  she  should  be  indifferent  to  whatever  might 

7  97 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

happen  in  such  a  case ;  for  she  had  now  so  absolutely  placed 
her  affections  on  this  dear  men  (so  she  called  him),  that,  if  it 
was  her  misfortune  to  lose  him,  she  should  for  ever  abandon 
all  thoughts  of  mankind.  She  therefore  resolved  to  visit  him, 
notwithstanding  all  the  prudent  advice  of  her  aunt  to  the 
contrary,  and  that  very  afternoon  executed  her  resolution. 

The  lady  was  proceeding  in  her  story,  when  the  coach 
drove  into  the  inn  where  the  company  were  to  dine,  sorely 
to  the  dissatisfaction  of  Mr  Adams,  whose  ears  were  the  most 
hungry  part  about  him ;  he  being,  as  the  reader  may  perhaps 
guess,  of  an  insatiable  curiosity  and  heartily  desirous  of 
hearing  the  end  of  this  amour,  though  he  professed  he  could 
scarce  wish  success  to  a  lady  of  so  inconstant  a  disposition. 


CHAPTER    V. 


A  DREADFUL  QUARREL  WHICH  HAPPENED  AT  THE  INN  WHERE 
THE  COMPANY  DINED,  WITH  ITS  BLOODY  CONSEQUENCES  TO 
MR  ADAMS. 

AS  soon  as  the  passengers  had  alighted  from  the  coach, 
±\.  Mr  Adams,  as  was  his  custom,  made  directly  to  the  kit- 
chen, where  he  found  Joseph  sitting  by  the  fire,  and  the  hostess 
anointing  his  leg;  for  the  horse  which  Mr  Adams  had  bor- 
rowed of  his  clerk  had  so  violent  a  propensity  to  kneeling, 
that  one  would  have  thought  it  had  been  his  trade,  as  well 
as  his  master's ;  nor  would  he  always  give  any  notice  of  such 
his  intention ;  he  was  often  found  on  his  knees  when  the 
rider  least  expected  it.  This  foible,  however,  was  of  no  great 
inconvenience  to  the  parson,  who  was  accustomed  to  it;  and, 
as  his  legs  almost  touched  the  ground  when  he  bestrode  the 
beast,  had  but  a  little  way  to  fall,  and  threw  himself  forward 
on  such  occasions  with  so  much  dexterity  that  he  never 
received  any  mischief ;  the  horse  and  he  frequently  rolling 
many  paces'  distance,  and  afterwards  both  getting  up  and 
meeting  as  good  friends  as  ever. 

Poor  Joseph,  who  had  not  been  used  to  such  kind  of  cattle, 
though  an  excellent  horseman,  did  not  so  happily  disengage 

98 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

himself;  but  falling  with  his  leg  under  the  beast,  received 
a  violent  contusion,  to  which  the  good  woman  was,  as  we 
have  said,  applying  a  warm  hand,  with  some  camphorated 
spirits,  just  at  the  time  when  the  parson  entered  the  kitchen. 

He  had  scarce  expressed  his  concern  for  Joseph's  misfor- 
tune before  the  host  likewise  entered.  He  was  by  no  means 
of  Mr  Tow-wouse's  gentle  disposition;  and  was,  indeed,  per- 
fect master  of  his  house,  and  everything  in  it  but  his  guests. 

This  surly  fellow,  who  always  proportioned  his  respect  to 
the  appearance  of  a  traveller,  from  "  God  bless  your  honour," 
down  to  plain  "  Coming  presently,"  observing  his  wife  on  her 
knees  to  a  footman,  cried  out,  without  considering  his  cir- 
cumstances, "What  a  pox  is  the  woman  about?  why  don't 
you  mind  the  company  in  the  coach?  Go  and  ask  them 
what  they  will  have  for  dinner."  "  My  dear,"  says  she,  "  you 
know  they  can  have  nothing  but  what  is  at  the  fire,  which 
will  be  ready  presently ;  and  really  the  poor  young  man's 
leg  is  very  much  bruised."  At  which  words  she  fell  to  chafing 
more  violently  than  before :  the  bell  then  happening  to  ring, 
he  damn'd  his  wife,  and  bid  her  go  in  to  the  company,  and 
not  stand  rubbing  there  all  day,  for  he  did  not  believe  the 
young  fellow's  leg  was  so  bad  as  he  pretended ;  and  if  it  was, 
within  twenty  miles  he  would  find  a  surgeon  to  cut  it  off. 
Upon  these  words,  Adams  fetched  two  strides  across  the 
room ;  and  snapping  his  fingers  over  his  head,  muttered  aloud, 
he  would  excommunicate  such  a  wretch  for  a  farthing,  for 
he  believed  the  devil  had  more  humanity.  These  words  occa- 
sioned a  dialogue  between  Adams  and  the  host,  in  which  there 
were  two  or  three  sharp  replies,  till  Joseph  bade  the  latter 
know  how  to  behave  himself  to  his  betters.  At  which  the 
host  (having  first  strictly  surveyed  Adams)  scornfully  re- 
peated the  word  betters,  flew  into  a  rage,  and,  telling  Joseph 
he  was  as  able  to  walk  out  of  his  house  as  he  had  been  to 
walk  into  it,  offered  to  lay  violent  hands  on  him ;  which 
perceiving,  Adams  dealt  him  so  sound  a  compliment  over  his 
face  with  his  fist,  that  the  blood  immediately  gushed  out  of 
his  nose  in  a  stream.  The  host,  being  unwilling  to  be  out- 
done in  courtesy,  especially  by  a  person  of  Adams's  figure, 
returned  the  favour  with  so  much  gratitude,  that  the  parson's 
nostrils  began  to  look  a  little  redder  than  usual.    Upon  which 

99 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

he  again  assailed  his  antagonist,  and  with  another  stroke  laid 
him  sprawling  on  the  floor. 

The  hostess,  who  was  a  better  wife  than  so  surly  a  husband 
deserved,  seeing  her  husband  all  bloody  and  stretched  along, 
hastened  presently  to  his  assistance,  or  rather  to  revenge  the 
blow,  which,  to  all  appearance,  was  the  last  he  would  ever 
receive ;  when  lo !  a  pan  full  of  hog's  blood,  which  unluckily 
stood  on  the  dresser,  presented  itself  first  to  her  hands.  She 
seized  it  in  her  fury,  and,  without  any  reflection,  discharged 
it  into  the  parson's  face ;  and  with  so  good  an  aim,  that 
much  the  greater  part  first  saluted  his  countenance,  and 
trickled  thence  in  so  large  a  current  down  to  his  beard,  and 
over  his  garments,  that  a  more  horrible  spectacle  was  hardly 
to  be  seen,  or  even  imagined.  All  which  was  perceived  by 
Mrs  Slipslop,  who  entered  the  kitchen  at  that  instant.  This 
good  gentlewoman,  not  being  of  a  temper  so  extremely  cool 
and  patient  as  perhaps  was  required  to  ask  many  questions  on 
this  occasion,  flew  with  great  impetuosity  at  the  hostess's  cap, 
which,  together  with  some  of  her  hair,  she  plucked  from  her 
head  in  a  moment,  giving  her,  at  the  same  time,  several 
hearty  cuffs  in  the  face ;  which,  by  frequent  practice  on  the 
inferior  servants,  she  had  learned  an  excellent  knack  of  de- 
livering with  a  good  grace.  Poor  Joseph  could  hardly  rise 
from  his  chair ;  the  parson  was  employed  in  wiping  the  blood 
from  his  eyes,  which  had  entirely  blinded  him ;  and  the 
landlord  was  but  just  beginning  to  stir ;  whilst  Mrs  Slipslop, 
holding  down  the  landlady's  face  with  her  left  hand,  made 
so  dexterous  an  use  of  her  right,  that  the  poor  woman 
began  to  roar,  in  a  key  which  alarmed  all  the  company  in 
the  inn. 

There  happened  to  be  in  the  inn,  at  this  time,  besides  the 
ladies  who  arrived  in  the  stage-coach,  the  two  gentlemen  who 
were  present  at  Mr  Tow-wouse's  when  Joseph  was  detained 
for  his  horse's  meat,  and  whom  we  have  before  mentioned 
to  have  stopt  at  the  alehouse  with  Adams.  There  was  like- 
wise a  gentleman  just  returned  from  his  travels  to  Italy;  all 
whom  the  horrid  outcry  of  murder  presently  brought  into 
the  kitchen,  where  the  several  combatants  were  found  in  the 
postures  already  described. 

It  was  now  no  difficulty  to  put  an  end  to  the  fray,  the 

ioo 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

conquerors  being  satisfied  with  the  vengeance  they  had  taken, 
and  the  conquered  having  no  appetite  to  renew  the  fight.  The 
principal  figure,  and  which  engaged  the  eyes  of  all,  was 
Adams,  who  was  all  over  covered  with  blood,  which  the 
whole  company  concluded  to  be  his  own,  and  consequently 
imagined  him  no  longer  for  this  world.  But  the  host,  who 
had  now  recovered  from  his  blow,  and  was  risen  from  the 
ground,  soon  delivered  them  from  this  apprehension,  by 
damning  his  wife  for  wasting  the  hog's  puddings,  and  telling 
her  all  would  have  been  very  well  if  she  had  not  intermeddled, 
like  a  b —  as  she  was ;  adding,  he  was  very  glad  the  gentle- 
woman had  paid  her,  though  not  half  what  she  deserved.  The 
poor  woman  had  indeed  fared  much  the  worse ;  having,  besides 
the  unmerciful  cuff's  received,  lost  a  quantity  of  hair,  which 
Mrs  Slipslop  in  triumph  held  in  her  left  hand. 

The  traveller,  addressing  himself  to  Mrs  Grave-airs,  de- 
sired her  not  to  be  frightened ;  for  here  had  been  only  a  little 
boxing,  which  he  said,  to  their  disgracia,  the  English  were 
accustoinata  to :  adding,  it  must  be,  however,  a  sight  some- 
what strange  to  him,  who  was  just  come  from  Italy;  the 
Italians  not  being  addicted  to  the  cuff ar do,  but  bastonza,  says 
he.  He  then  went  up  to  Adams,  and  telling  him  he  looked 
like  the  ghost  of  Othello,  bid  him  not  shake  his  gory  locks 
at  him,  for  he  could  not  say  he  did  it.  Adams  very  inno- 
cently answered,  "  Sir,  I  am  far  from  accusing  you."  He  then 
returned  to  the  lady,  and  cried,  "  I  find  the  bloody  gentle- 
man is  uiio  insipido  del  nullo  scnso.  Damnato  di  me,  if  I  have 
seen  such  a  spcctaculo  in  my  way  from  Viterbo." 

One  of  the  gentlemen  having  learnt  from  the  host  the  oc- 
casion of  this  bustle,  and  being  assured  by  him  that  Adams 
had  struck  the  first  blow,  whispered  in  his  ear,  he'd  warrant 
he  would  recover.  "  Recover !  master,"  said  the  host  smiling : 
"  yes,  yes,  I  am  not  afraid  of  dying  with  a  blow  or  two 
neither ;  I  am  not  such  a  chicken  as  that." — "  Pugh !  "  said 
the  gentleman,  "  I  mean  you  will  recover  damages  in  that 
action  which,  undoubtedly,  you  intend  to  bring,  as  soon  as  a 
writ  can  be  returned  from  London ;  for  you  look  like  a  man 
of  too  much  spirit  and  courage  to  suffer  any  one  to  beat  you 
without  bringing  your  action  against  him :  he  must  be  a 
scandalous  fellow  indeed  who  would  put  up  with  a  drubbing 

IOI 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

whilst  the  law  is  open  to  revenge  it ;  besides,  he  hath  drawn 
blood  from  you,  and  spoiled  your  coat;  and  the  jury  will  give 
damages  for  that  too.  An  excellent  new  coat  upon  my  word ; 
and  now  not  worth  a  shilling !  I  don't  care,"  continued  he, 
"to  intermeddle  in  these  cases;  but  you  have  a  right  to  my 
evidence ;  and  if  I  am  sworn,  I  must  speak  the  truth.  I  saw 
you  sprawling  on  the  floor,  and  blood  gushing  from  your 
nostrils.  You  may  take  your  own  opinion ;  but  was  I  in 
your  circumstances,  every  drop  of  my  blood  should  convey 
an  ounce  of  gold  into  my  pocket :  remember  I  don't  advise  you 
to  go  to  law;  but  if  your  jury  were  Christians,  they  must 
give  swinging  damages.  That's  all." — "  Master,"  cried  the 
host,  scratching  his  head,  "  I  .have  no  stomach  to  law,  I  thank 
you  I  have  seen  enough  of  that  in  the  parish,  where  two  of 
my  neighbours  have  been  at  law  about  a  house,  till  they  have 
both  lawed  themselves  into  a  gaol."  At  which  words  he  turned 
about,  and  began  to  inquire  again  after  his  hog's  puddings ; 
nor  would  it  probably  have  been  a  sufficient  excuse  for  his 
wife,  that  she  spilt  them  in  his  defence,  had  not  some  awe 
of  the  company,  especially  of  the  Italian  traveller,  who  was 
a  person  of  great  dignity,  withheld  his  rage. 

Whilst  one  of  the  above-mentioned  gentlemen  was  em- 
ployed, as  we  have  seen  him,  on  the  behalf  of  the  landlord, 
the  other  was  no  less  hearty  on  the  side  of  Mr  Adams,  whom 
he  advised  to  bring  his  action  immediately.  He  said  the  assault 
of  the  wrife  was  in  law  the  assault  of  the  husband,  for  they 
were  but  one  person ;  and  he  was  liable  to  pay  damages,  which 
he  said  must  be  considerable,  where  so  bloody  a  disposition 
appeared.  Adams  answered,  If  it  was  true  that  they  were 
but  one  person,  he  had  assaulted  the  wife ;  for  he  was  sorry  to 
own  he  had  struck  the  husband  the  first  blow^.  "  I  am  sorry 
you  own  it  too,"  cries  the  gentleman ;  "  for  it  could  not  pos- 
sibly appear  to  the  court ;  for  here  was  no  evidence  present 
but  the  lame  man  in  the  chair,  whom  I  suppose  to  be  your 
friend,  and  would  consequently  say  nothing  but  what  made 
for  you." — "  How,  sir,"  says  Adams,  "  do  you  take  me  for 
a  villain,  who  would  prosecute  revenge  in  cold  blood,  and  use 
unjustifiable  means  to  obtain  it?  If  you  knew  me,  and  my 
order,  I  should  think  you  affronted  both."  At  the  word 
order,  the  gentleman  stared  (for  he  was  too  bloody  to  be  of 

102 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

any  modern  order  of  knights)  ;  and,  turning  hastily  about, 
said,  every  man  knew  his  own  business. 

Matters  being  now  composed,  the  company  retired  to  their 
several  apartments ;  the  two  gentlemen  congratulating  each 
other  on  the  success  of  their  good  offices  in  procuring  a  per- 
fect reconciliation  between  the  contending  parties ;  and  the 
traveller  went  to  his  repast,  crying,  "  As  the  Italian  poet  says, 

'  Je  voi  very  well  que  tutta  e  pace, 
So  send  up  dinner,  good  Boniface.' " 

The  coachman  began  now  to  grow  importunate  with  his 
passengers,  whose  entrance  into  the  coach  was  retarded  by 
Miss  Grave-airs  insisting,  against  the  remonstrances  of  all  the 
rest,  that  she  would  not  admit  a  footman  into  the  coach ;  for 
poor  Joseph  was  too  lame  to  mount  a  horse.  A  young  lady, 
who  was,  as  it  seems,  an  earl's  grand-daughter,  begged  it  with 
almost  tears  in  her  eyes.  Mr  Adams  prayed,  and  Mrs  Slipslop 
scolded ;  but  all  to  no  purpose.  She  said,  she  would  not  de- 
mean herself  to  ride  with  a  footman :  that  there  were  wag- 
gons on  the  road :  that  if  the  master  of  the  coach  desired  it, 
she  would  pay  for  two  places ;  but  would  suffer  no  such  fellow 
to  come  in." — "  Madam,"  says  Slipslop,  "  I  am  sure  no  one 
can  refuse  another  coming  into  a  stage-coach." — "  I  don't 
know,  madam,"  says  the  lady;  "  I  am  not  much  used  to  stage- 
coaches ;  I  seldom  travel  in  them." — "  That  may  be,  madam," 
replied  Slipslop ;  "  very  good  people  do ;  and  some  people's 
betters,  for  aught  I  know."  Miss  Grave-airs  said,  some  folks 
might  sometimes  give  their  tongues  a  liberty,  to  some  people 
that  were  their  betters,  which  did  not  become  them ;  for  her 
part,  she  was  not  used  to  converse  with  servants.  Slipslop 
returned,  some  people  kept  no  servants  to  converse  with ;  for 
her  part,  she  thanked  Heaven  she  lived  in  a  family  where 
there  were  a  great  many,  and  had  more  under  her  own  com- 
mand than  any  paltry  little  gentlewoman  in  the  kingdom.  Miss 
Grave-airs  cried,  she  believed  her  mistress  would  not  encour- 
age such  sauciness  to  her  betters.  "  My  betters,"  says  Slip- 
slop, "  who  is  my  betters,  pray  ?  " — "  I  am  your  betters," 
answered  Miss  Grave-airs,  "  and  I'll  acquaint  your  mistress." 
— At  which  Mrs  Slipslop  laughed  aloud,  and  told  her,  her 

io3 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

lady  was  one  of  the  great  gentry;  and  such  little  paltry  gen- 
tlewomen as  some  folks,  who  travelled  in  stage-coaches,  would 
not  easily  come  at  her. 

This  smart  dialogue  between  some  people  and  some  folks 
was  going  on  at  the  coach-door  when  a  solemn  person,  riding 
into  the  inn,  and  seeing  Miss  Grave-airs,  immediately  accosted 
her  with  "  Dear  child,  how  do  you  ?  "  She  presently  answered, 
"O!  papa,  I  am  glad  you  have  overtaken  me." — "  So  am  I," 
answered  he ;  "  for  one  of  our  coaches  is  just  at  hand ;  and, 
there  being  room  for  you  in  it,  you  shall  go  no  farther  in  the 
stage  unless  you  desire  it." — "  How  can  you  imagine  I  should 
desire  it  ?  "  says  she ;  so,  bidding  Slipslop  ride  with  her  fellow, 
if  she  pleased,  she  took  her  father  by  the  hand,  who  was 
just  alighted,  and  walked  with  him  into  a  room. 

Adams  instantly  asked  the  coachman,  in  a  whisper,  if  he 
knew  who  the  gentleman  was  ?  The  coachman  answered,  he 
was  now  a  gentleman,  and  kept  his  horse  and  man.  "  But 
times  are  altered,  master,"  said  he ;  "  I  remember  when  he  was 
no  better  born  than  myself." — "Aye!  aye!''  says  Adams. 
"  My  father  drove  the  squire's  coach,"  answered  he,  "  when 
that  very  man  rode  postilion ;  but  he  is  now  his  steward ;  and 
a  great  gentleman."  Adams  then  snapped  his  fingers,  and 
cried,  he  thought  she  was  some  such  trollop. 

Adams  made  haste  to  acquaint  Mrs  Slipslop  with  this  good 
news,  as  he  imagined  it;  but  it  found  a  reception  different 
from  what  he  expected.  The  prudent  gentlewoman,  who 
despised  the  anger  of  Miss  Grave-airs  whilst  she  conceived 
her  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  of  small  fortune,  now  she 
heard  her  alliance  with  the  upper  servants  of  a  great  family 
in  her  neighbourhood,  began  to  fear  her  interest  with  the 
mistress.  She  wished  she  had  not  carried  the  dispute  so  far, 
and  began  to  think  of  endeavouring  to  reconcile  herself  to 
the  young  lady  before  she  left  the  inn  ;  when,  luckily,  the 
scene  at  London,  which  the  reader  can  scarce  have  forgotten, 
presented  itself  to  her  mind,  and  comforted  her  with  such 
assurance,  that  she  no  longer  apprehended  any  enemy  with 
her  mistress. 

Everything  being  now  adjusted,  the  company  entered  the 
coach,  which  was  just  on  its  departure,  when  one  lady  recol- 
lected she  had  left  her  fan,  a  second  her  gloves,  a  third  a 

104 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

snuff-box,  and  a  fourth  a  smelling-bottle  behind  her;  to  find 
all  which  occasioned  some  delay  and  much  swearing  to  the 
coachman. 

As  soon  as  the  coach  had  left  the  inn  the  women  all  to- 
gether fell  to  the  character  of  Miss  Grave-airs ;  whom  one  of 
them  declared  she  had  suspected  to  be  some  low  creature, 
from  the  beginning  of  their  journey,  and  another  affirmed  she 
had  not  even  the  looks  of  a  gentlewoman :  a  third  warranted 
she  was  no  better  than  she  should  be ;  and,  turning  to  the 
lady  who  had  related  the  story  in  the  coach,  said,  "  Did  you 
ever  hear,  madam,  anything  so  prudish  as  her  remarks? 
Well,  deliver  me  from  the  censoriousness  of  such  a  prude." 
The  fourth  added,  "  O,  madam!  all  these  creatures  are  censo- 
rious ;  but  for  my  part,  I  wonder  where  the  wretch  was  bred  ; 
indeed,  I  must  own  I  have  seldom  conversed  with  these  mean 
kind  of  people,  so  that  it  may  appear  stranger  to  me;  but 
to  refuse  the  general  desire  of  a  whole  company  hath  some- 
thing in  it  so  astonishing,  that,  for  my  part,  I  own  I  should 
hardly  believe  it  if  my  own  ears  had  not  been  witnesses  to 
it." — "  Yes,  and  so  handsome  a  young  fellow,"  cries  Slipslop; 
"  the  woman  must  have  no  compulsion  in  her :  I  believe  she 
is  more  of  a  Turk  than  a  Christian;  I  am  certain,  if  she 
had  any  Christian  woman's  blood  in  her  veins,  the  sight  of 
such  a  young  fellow  must  have  warmed  it.  Indeed,  there  are 
some  wretched,  miserable  old  objects,  that  turn  one's  stomach; 
I  should  not  wonder  if  she  had  refused  such  a  one;  I  am 
as  nice  as  herself,  and  should  have  cared  no  more  than  her- 
self for  the  company  of  stinking  old  fellows ;  but,  hold  up 
thy  head,  Joseph,  thou  art  none  of  those ;  and  she  who  hath 
not  compulsion  for  thee  is  a  Myhummetman,  and  I  will  main- 
tain it."  This  conversation  made  Joseph  uneasy  as  well  as  the 
ladies ;  who,  perceiving  the  spirits  which  Mrs  Slipslop  was  in 
(for  indeed  she  was  not  a  cup  too  low),  began  to  fear  the  con- 
sequence ;  one  of  them  therefore  desired  the  lady  to  conclude 
the  story.  "  Aye,  madam,"  said  Slipslop,  "  I  beg  your  lady- 
ship to  give  us  that  story  you  commensated  in  the  morning;  " 
which  request  that  well-bred  woman  immediately  complied 
with. 


i°5 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 
CHAPTER  VI. 

CONCLUSION  OF  THE  UNFORTUNATE  JILT. 

LEONORA,  having  once  broke  through  the  bounds  which 
>  custom  and  modesty  impose  on  her  sex,  soon  gave  an  un- 
bridled indulgence  to  her  passion.  Her  visits  to  Bellarmine 
were  more  constant,  as  well  as  longer,  than  his  surgeon's :  in 
a  word,  she  became  absolutely  his  nurse ;  made  his  water- 
gruel,  administered  him  his  medicines ;  and,  notwithstanding 
the  prudent  advice  of  her  aunt  to  the  contrary,  almost  en- 
tirely resided  in  her  wounded  lover's  apartment. 

The  ladies  of  the  town  began  to  take  her  conduct  under 
consideration :  it  was  the  chief  topic  of  discourse  at  their 
tea-tables,  and  was  very  severely  censured  by  the  most  part ; 
especially  by  Lindamira,  a  lady  whose  discreet  and  starch 
carriage,  together  with  a  constant  attendance  at  church  three 
times  a-day,  had  utterly  defeated  many  malicious  attacks  on 
her  own  reputation ;  for  such  was  the  envy  that  Lindamira's 
virtue  had  attracted,  that,  notwithstanding  her  own  strict  be- 
haviour and  strict  inquiry  into  the  lives  of  others,  she  had 
not  been  able  to  escape  being  the  mark  of  some  arrows  her- 
self, which,  however,  did  her  no  injury;  a  blessing,  perhaps, 
owed  by  her  to  the  clergy,  who  were  her  chief  male  com- 
panions, and  with  two  or  three  of  whom  she  had  been  bar- 
barously and  unjustly  calumniated. 

"Not  so  unjustly  neither,  perhaps,"  says  Slipslop;  "for 
the  clergy  are  men,  as  well  as  other  folks." 

The  extreme  delicacy  of  Lindamira's  virtue  was  cruelly 
hurt  by  those  freedoms  which  Leonora  allowed  herself :  she 
said  it  was  an  affront  to  her  sex;  that  she  did  not  imagine 
it  consistent  with  any  woman's  honour  to  speak  to  the  crea- 
ture, or  to  be  seen  in  her  company;  and  that,  for  her  part, 
she  should  always  refuse  to  dance  at  an  assembly  with  her, 
for  fear  of  contamination  by  taking  her  by  the  hand. 

But  to  return  to  my  story :  as  soon  as  Bellarmine  was 
recovered,  which  was  somewhat  within  a  month  from  his 
receiving  the  wound,  he  set  out,  according  to  agreement,  for 

106 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

Leonora's  father's,  in  order  to  propose  the  match,  and  settle 
all  matters  with  him  touching  settlements,  and  the  like. 

A  little  before  his  arrival  the  old  gentleman  had  received 
an  intimation  of  the  affair  by  the  following  letter,  which  1 
can  repeat  verbatim,  and  which,  they  say,  was  written  neither 
by  Leonora  nor  her  aunt,  though  it  was  in  a  woman's  hand. 
The  letter  was  in  these  words  : — 

"  Sir, — I  am  sorry  to  acquaint  you  that  your  daughter, 
Leonora,  hath  acted  one  of  the  basest  as  well  as  most  simple 
parts  with  a  young  gentleman  to  whom  she  had  engaged  her- 
self, and  whom  she  hath  (pardon  the  word)  jilted  for  another 
of  inferior  fortune,  notwithstanding  his  superior  figure.  You 
may  take  what  measures  you  please  on  this  occasion ;  I  have 
performed  what  I  thought  my  duty;  as  I  have,  though  un- 
known to  you,  a  very  great  respect  for  your  family." 

The  old  gentleman  did  not  give  himself  the  trouble  to  an- 
swer this  kind  epistle ;  nor  did  he  take  any  notice  of  it,  after 
he  had  read  it,  till  he  saw  Bellarmine.  He  was,  to  say  the 
truth,  one  of  those  fathers  who  look  on  children  as  an 
unhappy  consequence  of  their  youthful  pleasures ;  which,  as 
he  would  have  been  delighted  not  to  have  had  attend  them, 
so  was  he  no  less  pleased  with  any  opportunity  to  rid  him- 
self of  the  incumbrance.  He  passed,  in  the  world's  language, 
as  an  exceeding  good  father ;  being  not  only  so  rapacious 
as  to  rob  and  plunder  all  mankind  to  the  utmost  of  his  power, 
but  even  to  deny  himself  the  conveniences,  and  almost  neces- 
saries, of  life;  which  his  neighbours  attributed  to  a  desire 
of  raising  immense  fortunes  for  his  children :  but  in  fact  it 
was  not  so ;  he  heaped  up  money  for  its  own  sake  only,  and 
looked  on  his  children  as  his  rivals,  who  were  to  enjoy  his  be- 
loved mistress  when  he  was  incapable  of  possessing  her,  and 
which  he  would  have  been  much  more  charmed  with  the 
power  of  carrying  along  with  him ;  nor  had  his  children  any 
other  security  of  being  his  heirs  than  that  the  law  would  con- 
stitute them  such  without  a  will,  and  that  he  had  not  affection 
enough  for  any  one  living  to  take  the  trouble  of  writing  one. 

To  this  gentleman  came  Bellarmine,  on  the  errand  I  have 
mentioned.  His  person,  his  equipage,  his  family,  and  his 
estate,  seemed  to  the  father  to  make  him  an  advantageous 
match  for  his  daughter :  he  therefore  very  readily  accepted 

107 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

his  proposals :  but  when  Bellarmine  imagined  the  principal 
affair  concluded,  and  began  to  open  the  incidental  matters  of 
fortune,  the  old  gentleman  presently  changed  his  counte- 
nance, saying,  he  resolved  never  to  marry  his  daughter  on  a 
Smithfield  match;  that  whoever  had  love  for  her  to  take  her 
would,  when  he  died,  find  her  share  of  his  fortune  in  his 
coffers ;  but  he  had  seen  such  examples  of  undutifulness  hap- 
pen from  the  too  early  generosity  of  parents,  that  he  had  made 
a  vow  never  to  part  with  a  shilling  whilst  he  lived.  He  com- 
mended the  saying  of  Solomon,  he  that  spareth  the  rod  spoil- 
eth  the  child ;  but  added,  he  might  have  likewise  asserted, 
that  he  that  spareth  the  purse  saveth  the  child.  He  then 
ran  into  a  discourse  on  the  extravagance  of  the  youth  of  the 
age ;  whence  he  launched  into  a  dissertation  on  horses ;  and 
came  at  length  to  commend  those  Bellarmine  drove.  That 
fine  gentleman,  who  at  another  season  would  have  been  well 
enough  pleased  to  dwell  a  little  on  that  subject,  was  now  very 
eager  to  resume  the  circumstance  of  fortune.  He  said,  he  had 
a  very  high  value  for  the  young  lady,  and  would  receive  her 
with  less  than  he  would  any  other  whatever ;  but  that  even 
his  love  to  her  made  some  regard  to  worldly  matters  neces- 
sary; for  it  would  be  a  most  distracting  sight  for  him  to  see 
her,  when  he  had  the  honour  to  be  her  husband,  in  less  than 
a  coach  and  six.  The  old  gentleman  answered,  "  Four  will 
do,  four  will  do ;  "  and  then  took  a  turn  from  horses  to  ex- 
travagance and  from  extravagance  to  horses,  till  he  came 
round  to  the  equipage  again ;  whither  he  was  no  sooner  ar- 
rived than  Bellarmine  brought  him  back  to  the  point;  but  all 
to  no  purpose;  he  made  his  escape  from  that  subject  in  a 
minute ;  till  at  last  the  lover  declared,  that  in  the  present  situ- 
ation of  his  affairs  it  was  impossible  for  him,  though  he  loved 
Leonora  more  than  tout  le  monde,  to  marry  her  without  any 
fortune.  To  which  the  father  answered,  he  was  sorry  that  his 
daughter  must  lose  so  valuable  a  match ;  that,  if  he  had  an  in- 
clination, at  present  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  advance  a 
shilling:  that  he  had  had  great  losses,  and  been  at  great  ex- 
penses on  projects ;  which,  though  he  had  great  expectation 
from  them,  had  yet  produced  him  nothing:  that  he  did  not 
know  what  might  happen  hereafter,  as  on  the  birth  of  a  son, 
or  such  accident ;  but  he  would  make  no  promise,  nor  enter 

108 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

into  any  article,  for  he  would  not  break  his  vow  for  all  the 
daughters  in  the  world. 

In  short,  ladies,  to  keep  you  no  longer  in  suspense,  Bellar- 
mine,  having  tried  every  argument  and  persuasion  which  he 
could  invent,  and  finding  them  all  ineffectual,  at  length  took 
his  leave,  but  not  in  order  to  return  to  Leonora ;  he  proceeded 
directly  to  his  own  seat,  whence,  after  a  few  days'  stay,  he 
returned  to  Paris,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  French  and  the 
honour  of  the  English  nation. 

But  as  soon  as  he  arrived  at  his  home  he  presently  de- 
spatched a  messenger  with  the  following  epistle  to  Leonora : 

"  Adorable  and  Charmante, — I  am  sorry  to  have  the  hon- 
our to  tell  you  I  am  not  the  heureux  person  destined  for  your 
divine  arms.  Your  papa  hath  told  me  so  with  a  politcsse 
not  often  seen  on  this  side  Paris.  You  may  perhaps  guess 
his  manner  of  refusing  me.  Ah,  mon  Dieu!  You  will  cer- 
tainly believe  me,  madam,  incapable  myself  of  delivering  this 
triste  message,  which  I  intend  to  try  the  French  air  to  cure 
the  consequences  of.  A  jamais!  Cceur!  Angel  An  diable! 
If  your  papa  obliges  you  to  a  marriage,  I  hope  we  shall  see 
you  at  Paris ;  till  when,  the  wind  that  flows  from  thence  will 
be  the  warmest  dans  le  monde,  for  it  will  consist  almost  en- 
tirely of  my  sighs.    Adieu,  ma  princesse!    Ah,  I' amour! 

"  Bellarmine." 

I  shall  not  attempt,  ladies,  to  describe  Leonora's  condition 
when  she  received  this  letter.  It  is  a  picture  of  horror,  which 
I  should  have  as  little  pleasure  in  drawing  as  you  in  behold- 
ing. She  immediately  left  the  place  where  she  was  the  sub- 
ject of  conversation  and  ridicule,  and  retired  to  that  house 
I  showed  you  when  I  began  the  story;  where  she  hath  ever 
since  led  a  disconsolate  life,  and  deserves,  perhaps,  pity  for 
her  misfortunes,  more  than  our  censure  for  a  behaviour  to 
which  the  artifices  of  her  aunt  very  probably  contributed,  and 
to  which  very  young  women  are  often  rendered  too  liable  by 
that  blameable  levity  in  the  education  of  our  sex. 

"  If  I  was  inclined  to  pity  her,"  said  a  young  lady  in  the 
coach,  "  it  would  be  for  the  loss  of  Horatio ;  for  I  cannot  dis- 
cern any  misfortune  in  her  missing  such  a  husband  as  Bellar- 


mine." 


109 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

'  Why,  I  must  own,"  says  Slipslop,  "  the  gentleman  was  a 
little  false-hearted;  but  howsumever,  it  was  hard  to  have  two 
lovers,  and  get  never  a  husband  at  all  But  pray,  madam, 
what  became  of  Our-asho? '" 

He  remains,  said  the  lady,  still  unmarried,  and  hath  ap- 
plied himself  so  strictly  to  his  business,  that  he  hath  raised,  I 
hear,  a  very  considerable  fortune.  And,  what  is  remarkable, 
they  say  he  never  hears  the  name  of  Leonora  without  a  sigh, 
nor  hath  ever  uttered  one  syllable  to  charge  her  with  her  ill- 
conduct  towards  him. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A    VERY   SHORT   CHAPTER,   IN    WHICH    PARSON   ADAMS   WENT    A 

GREAT    WAY. 

THE  lady,  having  finished  her  story,  received  the  thanks 
of  the  company ;  and  now  Joseph,  putting  his  head  out 
of  the  coach,  cried  out,  "  Never  believe  me  if  yonder  be  not 
our  parson  Adams  walking  along  without  his  horse !  " — "  On 
my  word,  and  so  he  is,"  says  Slipslop :  "  and  as  sure  as  two- 
pence he  hath  left  him  behind  at  the  inn."  Indeed,  true 
it  is,  the  parson  had  exhibited  a  fresh  instance  of  his  absence 
of  mind ;  for  he  was  so  pleased  with  having  got  Joseph  into 
the  coach,  that  he  never  once  thought  of  the  beast  in  the 
stable ;  and,  finding  his  legs  as  nimble  as  he  desired,  he 
sallied  out,  brandishing  a  crabstick,  and  had  kept  on  before 
the  coach,  mending  and  slackening  his  pace  occasionally,  so 
that  he  had  never  been  much  more  or  less  than  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant  from  it. 

Mrs  Slipslop  desired  the  coachman  to  overtake  him,  which 
he  attempted,  but  in  vain ;  for  the  faster  he  drove  the  faster 
ran  the  parson,  often  crying  out,  "  Aye,  aye,  catch  me  if  you 
can ; "  till  at  length  the  coachman  swore  he  would  as  soon 
attempt  to  drive  after  a  greyhound,  and,  giving  the  parson 
two  or  three  hearty  curses,  he  cried,  "  Softly,  softly,  boys," 
to  his  horses,  which  the  civil  beasts  immediately  obeyed. 

But  we  will  be  more  courteous  to  our  reader  than  he  was 

no 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

to  Mrs  Slipslop ;  and,  leaving  the  coach  and  its  company  to 
pursue  their  journey,  we  will  carry  our  reader  on  after  par- 
son Adams,  who  stretched  forwards  without  once  looking 
behind  him,  till,  having  left  the  coach  full  three  miles  in  his 
rear,  he  came  to  a  place  where,  by  keeping  the  extremest 
track  to  the  right,  it  was  just  barely  possible  for  a  human 
creature  to  miss  his  way.  This  track  however  did  he  keep, 
as  indeed  he  had  a  wonderful  capacity  at  these  kinds  of  bare 
possibilities,  and,  travelling  in  it  about  three  miles  over  the 
plain,  he  arrived  at  the  summit  of  a  hill,  whence  looking  a 
great  way  backwards,  and  perceiving  no  coach  in  sight,  he 
sat  himself  down  on  the  turf,  and,  pulling  out  his  yEschylus, 
determined  to  wait  here  for  its  arrival. 

He  had  not  sat  long  here  before  a  gun  going  off  very  near, 
a  little  startled  him ;  he  looked  up  and  saw  a  gentleman  within 
a  hundred  paces  taking  up  a  partridge  which  he  had  just  shot. 

Adams  stood  up  and  presented  a  figure  to  the  gentleman 
which  would  have  moved  laughter  in  many;  for  his  cassock 
had  just  again  fallen  down  below  his  great  coat,  that  is  to 
say,  it  reached  his  knees,  whereas  the  skirts  of  his  great  coat 
descended  no  lower  than  half  way  down  his  thighs ;  but  the 
gentleman's  mirth  gave  way  to  his  surprize  at  beholding  such 
a  personage  in  such  a  place. 

Adams,  advancing  to  the  gentleman,  told  him  he  hoped  he 
had  good  sport,  to  which  the  other  answered,  "  Very  little." — 
"  I  see,  sir,"  says  Adams,  "  you  have  smote  one  partridge ;  " 
to  which  the  sportsman  made  no  reply,  but  proceeded  to 
charge  his  piece. 

Whilst  the  gun  was  charging,  Adams  remained  in  silence, 
which  he  at  last  broke  by  observing  that  it  was  a  delightful 
evening.  The  gentleman,  who  had  at  first  sight  conceived  a 
very  distasteful  opinion  of  the  parson,  began,  on  perceiving  a 
book  in  his  hand  and  smoking  likewise  the  information  of  the 
cassock,  to  change  his  thoughts,  and  made  a  small  advance 
to  conversation  on  his  side  by  saying,  "  Sir,  I  suppose  you  are 
not  one  of  these  parts  ?  " 

Adams  immediately  told  him,  no;  that  he  was  a  traveller, 
and  invited  by  the  beauty  of  the  evening  and  the  place  to 
repose  a  little  and  amuse  himself  with  reading.  "  I  may  as 
well  repose  myself  too,"  said  the  sportsman,  "  for  I  have  been 

in 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

out  this  whole  afternoon,  and  the  devil  a  bird  have  I  seen  till 
I  came  hither." 

"  Perhaps  then  the  game  is  not  very  plenty  hereabouts  ?  " 
cries  Adams.  "  No,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman :  "  the  soldiers, 
who  are  quartered  in  the  neighbourhood,  have  killed  it  all." 
— "  It  is  very  probable,"  cries  Adams,  "  for  shooting  is  their 
profession." — "  Aye,  shooting  the  game,"  answered  the  other ; 
"  but  I  don't  see  they  are  so  forward  to  shoot  our  enemies. 
I  don't  like  that  affair  of  Carthagena;  if  I  had  been  there,  I 
believe  I  should  have  done  other-guess  things,  d — n  me : 
what's  a  man's  life  when  his  country  demands  it?  a  man  who 
won't  sacrifice  his  life  for  his  country  deserves  to  be  hanged, 
d — n  me."  Which  words  he  spoke  with  so  violent  a  gesture, 
so  loud  a  voice,  so  strong  an  accent,  and  so  fierce  a  counte- 
nance, that  he  might  have  frightened  a  captain  of  trained- 
bands  at  the  head  of  his  company ;  but  Mr  Adams  was  not 
greatly  subject  to  fear;  he  told  him  intrepidly  that  he  very 
much  approved  his  virtue,  but  disliked  his  swearing,  and 
begged  him  not  to  addict  himself  to  so  bad  a  custom,  without 
which  he  said  he  might  fight  as  bravely  as  Achilles  did. 
Indeed  he  was  charmed  with  this  discourse ;  he  told  the  gen- 
tleman he  would  willingly  have  gone  many  miles  to  have  met 
a  man  of  his  generous  way  of  thinking;  that,  if  he  pleased 
to  sit  down,  he  should  be  greatly  delighted  to  commune  with 
him ;  for,  though  he  was  a  clergyman,  he  would  himself  be 
ready,  if  thereto  called,  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his  country. 

The  gentleman  sat  down,  and  Adams  by  him ;  and  then  the 
latter  began,  as  in  the  following  chapter,  a  discourse  which 
we  have  placed  by  itself,  as  it  is  not  only  the  most  curious  in 
this  but  perhaps  in  any  other  book. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A  NOTABLE  DISSERTATION  BY  MR  ABRAHAM   ADAMS;   WHEREIN 
THAT  GENTLEMAN  APPEARS  IN  A  POLITICAL  LIGHT. 

I  DO  assure  you,  sir  "   (says  he,  taking  the  gentleman  by 
the  hand),  "  I  am  heartily  glad  to  meet  with  a  man  of  your 
kidney;  for,  though  I  am  a  poor  parson,  I  will  be  bold  to 

112 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

say  I  am  an  honest  man,  and  would  not  do  an  ill  thing  to  be 
made  a  bishop;  nay,  though  it  hath  not  fallen  in  my  way  to 
offer  so  noble  a  sacrifice,  I  have  not  been  without  opportu- 
nities of  suffering  for  the  sake  of  my  conscience,  I  thank 
Heaven  for  them ;  for  I  have  had  relations,  though  I  say  it, 
who  made  some  figure  in  the  world ;  particularly  a  nephew, 
who  was  a  shopkeeper  and  an  alderman  of  a  corporation. 
He  was  a  good  lad,  and  was  under  my  care  when  a  boy ;  and 
I  believe  would  do  what  I  bade  him  to  his  dying  day.  In- 
deed, it  looks  like  extreme  vanity  in  me  to  affect  being  a  man 
of  such  consequence  as  to  have  so  great  an  interest  in  an 
alderman ;  but  others  have  thought  so  too,  as  manifestly  ap- 
peared by  the  rector,  whose  curate  I  formerly  was,  sending 
for  me  on  the  approach  of  an  election,  and  telling  me,  if  I 
expected  to  continue  in  his  cure,  that  I  must  bring  my  nephew 
to  vote  for  one  Colonel  Courtly,  a  gentleman  whom  I  had 
never  heard  tidings  of  till  that  instant.  I  told  the  rector  I 
had  no  power  over  my  nephew's  vote  (God  forgive  me  for 
such  prevarication !)  ;  that  I  supposed  he  would  give  it  accord- 
ing to  his  conscience;  that  I  would  by  no  means  endeavour 
to  influence  him  to  give  it  otherwise.  He  told  me  it  was  in 
vain  to  equivocate ;  that  he  knew  I  had  already  spoke  to  him 
in  favour  of  Squire  Fickle,  my  neighbour;  and,  indeed,  it 
was  true  I  had ;  for  it  was  at  a  season  when  the  church  was 
in  danger,  and  when  all  good  men  expected  they  knew  not 
what  would  happen  to  us  all.  I  then  answered  boldly,  if  he 
thought  I  had  given  my  promise,  he  affronted  me  in  propos- 
ing any  breach  of  it.  Not  to  be  too  prolix ;  I  persevered, 
and  so  did  my  nephew,  in  the  esquire's  interest,  who  was 
chose  chiefly  through  his  means;  and  so  I  lost  my  curacy. 
Well,  sir,  but  do  you  think  the  esquire  ever  mentioned  a 
word  of  the  church?  Ne  verbum  qiiidem,  ut  ita  dicam:  within 
two  years  he  got  a  place,  and  hath  ever  since  lived  in  Lon- 
don ;  where  I  have  been  informed  (but  God  forbid  I  should 
believe  that),  that  he  never  so  much  as  goeth  to  church.  I 
remained,  sir,  a  considerable  time  without  any  cure,  and  lived 
a  full  month  on  one  funeral  sermon,  which  I  preached  on  the 
indisposition  of  a  clergyman ;  but  this  by  the  bye.  At  last, 
when  Mr.  Fickle  got  his  place,  Colonel  Courtly  stood  again ; 
and  who  should  make  interest  for  him  but  Mr.  Fickle  him- 
8  113 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

self !  that  very  identical  Mr  Fickle,  who  had  formerly  told  me 
the  colonel  was  an  enemy  to  both  the  church  and  the  state, 
had  the  confidence  to  solicit  my  nephew  for  him ;  and  the  col- 
onel himself  offered  me  to  make  me  chaplain  to  his  regiment, 
which  I  refused  in  favour  of  Sir  Oliver  Hearty,  who  told  us 
he  would  sacrifice  everything  to  his  country ;  and  I  believe  he 
would,  except  his  hunting,  which  he  stuck  so  close  to,  that  in 
five  years  together  he  went  but  twice  up  to  parliament ;  and 
one  of  those  times,  I  have  been  told,  never  was  within  sight  of 
the  House.  However,  he  was  a  worthy  man,  and  the  best 
friend  I  ever  had ;  for,  by  his  interest  with  a  bishop,  he  got 
me  replaced  into  my  curacy,  and  gave  me  eight  pounds  out  of 
his  own  pocket  to  buy  me  a  gown  and  cassock,  and  furnish 
my  house.  He  had  our  interest  while  he  lived,  which  was  not 
many  years.  On  his  death  I  had  fresh  applications  made  to 
me ;  for  all  the  world  knew  the  interest  I  had  in  my  good 
nephew,  who  now  was  a  leading  man  in  the  corporation;  and 
Sir  Thomas  Booby,  buying  the  estate  which  had  been  Sir 
Oliver's,  proposed  himself  a  candidate.  He  was  then  a 
young  gentleman  just  come  from  his  travels ;  and  it  did  me 
good  to  hear  him  discourse  on  affairs  which,  for  my  part, 
I  knew  nothing  of.  If  I  had  been  master  of  a  thousand  votes 
he  should  have  had  them  all.  I  engaged  my  nephew  in  his 
interest,  and  he  was  elected;  and  a  very  fine  parliament-man 
he  was.  They  tell  me  he  made  speeches  of  an  hour  long,  and, 
I  have  been  told,  very  fine  ones ;  but  he  could  never  persuade 
the  parliament  to  be  of  his  opinion.  Non  omnia  possumus 
omncs.  He  promised  me  a  living,  poor  man!  and  I  believe 
I  should  have  had  it,  but  an  accident  happened,  which  was, 
that  my  lady  had  promised  it  before,  unknown  to  him.  This, 
indeed,  I  never  heard  till  afterwards ;  for  my  nephew,  who 
died  about  a  month  before  the  incumbent,  always  told  me  I 
might  be  assured  of  it.  Since  that  time,  Sir  Thomas,  poor 
man,  had  always  so  much  business,  that  he  never  could  find 
leisure  to  see  me.  I  believe  it  was  partly  my  lady's  fault  too, 
who  did  not  think  my  dress  good  enough  for  the  gentry  at  her 
table.  However,  I  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say  he  never 
was  ungrateful ;  and  I  have  always  found  his  kitchen,  and  his 
cellar  too,  open  to  me :  many  a  time,  after  service  on  a  Sun- 
day— for  I  preached  at  four  churches — have  I  recruited  my 

114 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

spirits  with  a  glass  of  his  ale.  Since  my  nephew's  death,  the 
corporation  is  in  other  hands ;  and  I  am  not  a  man  of  that 
consequence  I  was  formerly.  I  have  now  no  longer  any  tal- 
ents to  lay  out  in  the  service  of  my  country ;  and  to  whom 
nothing  is  given,  of  him  can  nothing  be  required.  However, 
on  all  proper  seasons,  such  as  the  approach  of  an  election,  I 
throw  a  suitable  dash  or  two  into  my  sermons ;  which  I  have 
the  pleasure  to  hear  is  not  disagreeable  to  Sir  Thomas  and  the 
other  honest  gentlemen  my  neighbours,  who  have  all  prom- 
ised me  these  five  years  to  procure  an  ordination  for  a  son 
of  mine,  who  is  now  near  thirty,  hath  an  infinite  stock  of 
learning,  and  is,  I  thank  Heaven,  of  an  exceptionable  life; 
though,  as  he  was  never  at  an  university,  the  bishop  refuses 
to  ordain  him.  Too  much  care  cannot  indeed  be  taken  in  ad- 
mitting any  to  the  sacred  office ;  though  I  hope  he  will  never 
act  so  as  to  be  a  disgrace  to  any  order,  but  will  serve  his  God 
and  his  country  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  as  I  have  endea- 
voured to  do  before  him;  nay,  and  will  lay  down  his  life 
whenever  called  to  that  purpose.  I  am  sure  I  have  educated 
him  in  those  principles;  so  that  I  have  acquitted  my  duty, 
and  shall  have  nothing  to  answer  for  on  that  account.  But 
I  do  not  distrust  him,  for  he  is  a  good  boy;  and  if  Provi- 
dence should  throw  it  in  his  way  to  be  of  as  much  consequence 
in  a  public  light  as  his  father  once  was,  I  can  answer  for 
him  he  will  use  his  talents  as  honestly  as  I  have  done." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

IN  WHICH  THE  GENTLEMAN  DESCANTS  ON  BRAVERY  AND  HE- 
ROIC VIRTUE,  TILL  AN  UNLUCKY  ACCIDENT  PUTS  AN  END 
TO  THE  DISCOURSE. 

THE  gentleman  highly  commended  Mr  Adams  for  his 
good  resolutions,  and  told  him,  he  hoped  his  son  would 
tread  in  his  steps;  adding,  that  if  he  would  not  die  for  his 
country,  he  would  not  be  worthy  to  live  in  it.  '  I'd  make 
np  more  of  shooting  a  man  that  would  not  die  for  his  country, 
than—" 

"5 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  have  disinherited  a  nephew,  who  is  in 
the  army,  because  he  would  not  exchange  his  commission  and 
go  to  the  West  Indies.  I  believe  the  rascal  is  a  coward, 
though  he  pretends  to  be  in  love  forsooth.  I  would  have  all 
such  fellows  hanged,  sir ;  I  would  have  them  hanged."  Adams 
answered,  that  would  be  too  severe ;  that  men  did  not  make 
themselves ;  and  if  fear  had  too  much  ascendance  in  the  mind, 
the  man  was  rather  to  be  pitied  than  abhorred ;  that  reason 
and  time  might  teach  him  to  subdue  it.  He  said,  a  man  might 
be  a  coward  at  one  time,  and  brave  at  another.  "  Homer," 
says  he,  "  who  so  well  understood  and  copied  nature,  hath 
taught  us  this  lesson ;  for  Paris  fights  and  Hector  runs  away. 
Nay,  we  have  a  mighty  instance  of  this  in  the  history  of  later 
ages,  no  longer  ago  than  the  705th  year  of  Rome,  when  the 
great  Pompey,  who  had  won  so  many  battles  and  been  hon- 
oured with  so  many  triumphs,  and  of  whose  valour  several 
authors,  especially  Cicero  and  Paterculus,  have  formed  such 
eulogiums ;  this  very  Pompey  left  the  battle  of  Pharsalia  be- 
fore he  had  lost  it,  and  retreated  to  his  tent,  where  he  sat  like 
the  most  pusillanimous  rascal  in  a  fit  of  despair,  and  yielded 
a  victory,  which  was  to  determine  the  empire  of  the  world, 
to  Caesar.  I  am  not  much  travelled  in  the  history  of  modern 
times,  that  is  to  say,  these  last  thousand  years ;  but  those  who 
are  can,  I  make  no  question,  furnish  you  with  parallel  in- 
stances." He  concluded,  therefore,  that,  had  he  taken  any  such 
hasty  resolutions  against  his  nephew,  he  hoped  he  would  con- 
sider better,  and  retract  them.  The  gentleman  answered  with 
great  warmth,  and  talked  much  of  courage  and  his  country, 
till,  perceiving  it  grew  late,  he  asked  Adams  what  place  he  in- 
tended for  that  night  ?  He  told  him,  he  waited  there  for  the 
stage-coach.  "  The  stage-coach,  sir !  "  said  the  gentleman  ; 
"  They  are  all  passed  by  long  ago.  You  may  see  the  last  your- 
self almost  three  miles  before  us." — "  I  protest  and  so  they 
are," cries  Adams  ;  "  then  I  must  make  haste  and  followthem." 
The  gentleman  told  him,  he  would  hardly  be  able  to  overtake 
them ;  and  that,  if  he  did  not  know  his  way,  he  would  be  in 
danger  of  losing  himself  on  the  downs,  for  it  would  be  pres- 
ently dark ;  and  he  might  ramble  about  all  night,  and  perhaps 
find  himself  farther  from  his  journey's  end  in  the  morning 
than  he  was  now.    He  advised  him,  therefore,  to  accompany 

116 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

him  to  his  house,  which  was  very  little  out  of  his  way,  assur- 
ing him  that  he  would  find  some  country  fellow  in  his  parish 
who  would  conduct  him  for  sixpence  to  the  city  where  he  was 
going.  Adams  accepted  this  proposal,  and  on  they  travelled, 
the  gentleman  renewing  his  discourse  on  courage,  and  the  in- 
famy of  not  being  ready,  at  all  times,  to  sacrifice  our  lives 
to  our  country.  Night  overtook  them  much  about  the  same 
time  as  they  arrived  near  some  bushes ;  whence,  on  a  sudden, 
they  heard  the  most  violent  shrieks  imaginable  in  a  female 
voice.  Adams  offered  to  snatch  the  gun  out  of  his  compa- 
nion's hand.  "What  are  you  doing?"  said  he.  "Doing!" 
said  Adams ;  "  I  am  hastening  to  the  assistance  of  the  poor 
creature  whom  some  villains  are  murdering." — "  You  are  not 
mad  enough,  I  hope,"  says  the  gentleman  trembling :  "  do  you 
consider  this  gun  is  only  charged  with  shot,  and  that  the  rob- 
bers are  most  probably  furnished  with  pistols  loaded  with 
bullets  ?  This  is  no  business  of  ours ;  let  us  make  as  much 
haste  as  possible  out  of  the  way,  or  we  may  fall  into  their 
hands  ourselves."  The  shrieks  now  increasing,  Adams  made 
no  answer,  but  snapt  his  fingers,  and,  brandishing  his  crab- 
stick,  made  directly  to  the  place  whence  the  voice  issued ;  and 
the  man  of  courage  made  as  much  expedition  towards  his  own 
home,  whither  he  escaped  in  a  very  short  time  without  once 
looking  behind  him ;  where  we  will  leave  him,  to  contemplate 
his  own  bravery,  and  to  censure  the  want  of  it  in  others,  and 
return  to  the  good  Adams,  who,  on  coming  up  to  the  place 
whence  the  noise  proceeded,  found  a  woman  struggling  with 
a  man,  who  had  thrown  her  on  the  ground,  and  had  almost 
overpowered  her.  The  great  abilities  of  Mr  Adams  were  not 
necessary  to  have  formed  a  right  judgment  of  this  affair  on 
the  first  sight.  He  did  not  therefore  want  the  entreaties  of 
the  poor  wretch  to  assist  her;  but,  lifting  up  his  crabstick, 
he  immediately  levelled  a  blow  at  that  part  of  the  ravisher's 
head  where,  according  to  the  opinion  of  the  antients,  the 
brains  of  some  persons  are  deposited,  and  which  he  had  un- 
doubtedly let  forth,  had  not  Nature  (who,  as  wise  men  have 
observed,  equips  all  creatures  with  what  is  most  expedient 
for  them)  taken  a  provident  care  (as  she  always  doth  with 
those  she  intends  for  encounters)  to  make  this  part  of  the 
head  three  times  as  thick  as  those  of  ordinary  men  who  are 

TT7 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

designed  to  exercise  talents  which  are  vulgarly  called  rational, 
and  for  whom,  as  brains  are  necessary,  she  is  obliged  to  leave 
some  room  for  them  in  the  cavity  of  the  skull ;  whereas,  those 
ingredients  being  entirely  useless  to  persons  of  the  heroic 
calling,  she  hath  an  opportunity  of  thickening  the  bone,  so  as 
to  make  it  less  subject  to  any  impression,  or  liable  to  be 
cracked  or  broken ;  and  indeed,  in  some  who  are  predestined 
to  the  command  of  armies  and  empires,  she  is  supposed  some- 
times to  make  that  part  perfectly  solid. 

As  the  game  cock,  when  engaged  in  amorous  toying  with  a 
hen,  if  perchance  he  espies  another  cock  at  hand,  immediately 
quits  his  female,  and  opposes  himself  to  his  rival,  so  did  the 
ravisher,  on  the  information  of  the  crabstick,  immediately 
leap  from  the  woman,  and  hasten  to  assail  the  man.  He  had 
no  weapons  but  what  Nature  had  furnished  him  with.  How- 
ever, he  clenched  his  fist,  and  presently  darted  it  at  that  part 
of  Adams's  breast  where  the  heart  is  lodged.  Adams  stag- 
gered at  the  violence  of  the  blow,  when,-  throwing  away  his 
staff,  he  likewise  clenched  that  fist  which  we  have  before 
commemorated,  and  would  have  discharged  it  full  in  the  breast 
of  his  antagonist,  had  he  not  dexterously  caught  it  with  his 
left  hand,  at  the  same  time  darting  his  head  (which  some 
modern  heroes  of  the  lower  class  use,  like  the  battering-ram 
of  the  antients,  for  a  weapon  of  offence ;  another  reason  to 
admire  the  cunningness  of  Nature,  in  composing  it  of  those 
impenetrable  materials)  ;  dashing  his  head,  I  say,  into  the 
stomach  of  Adams,  he  tumbled  him  on  his  back ;  and,  not 
having  any  regard  to  the  laws  of  heroism,  which  would  have 
restrained  him  from  any  farther  attack  on  his  enemy  till  he 
was  again  on  his  legs,  he  threw  himself  upon  him,  and,  lay- 
ing hold  on  the  ground  with  his  left  hand,  he  with  his  right 
belaboured  the  body  of  Adams  till  he  was  weary,  and  indeed 
till  he  concluded  (to  use  the  language  of  fighting)  "  that  he 
had  done  his  business ;  "  or,  in  the  language  of  poetry,  "  that 
he  had  sent  him  to  the  shades  below  ;  "  in  plain  English,  "  that 
he  was  dead."  * 

Eut  Adams,  who  was  no  chicken,  and  could  bear  a  drubbing 
as  well  as  any  boxing  champion  in  the  universe,  lay  still  only 
to  watch  his  opportunity;  and  now,  perceiving  his  antagonist 
to  pant  with  his  labours,  he  exerted  his  utmost  force  at  once, 

118 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

and  with  such  success  that  he  overturned  him,  and  became 
his  superior;  when,  fixing  one  of  his  knees  in  his  breast,  he 
cried  out  in  an  exulting  voice,  "  It  is  my  turn  now ;  "  and, 
after  a  few  minutes'  constant  application,  he  gave  him  so 
dexterous  a  blow  just  under  his  chin  that  the  fellow  no  longer 
retained  any  motion,  and  Adams  began  to  fear  he  had  struck 
him  once  too  often ;  for  he  often  asserted  he  should  be  con- 
cerned to  have  the  blood  of  even  the  wicked  upon  him. 

Adams  got  up  and  called  aloud  to  the  young  woman.  "  Be 
of  good  cheer,  damsel,"  said  he,  "  you  are  no  longer  in  danger 
of  your  ravisher,  who,  I  am  terribly  afraid,  lies  dead  at  my 
feet;  but  God  forgive  me  what  I  have  done  in  defence  of 
innocence!"  The  poor  wretch,  who  had  been  some  time  in 
recovering  strength  enough  to  rise,  and  had  afterwards,  dur- 
ing the  engagement,  stood  trembling,  being  disabled  by  fear 
even  from  running  away,  hearing  her  champion  was  victori- 
ous, came  up  to  him,  but  not  without  apprehensions  even  of 
her  deliverer;  which,  however,  she  was  soon  relieved  from 
by  his  courteous  behaviour  and  gentle  words.  They  were  both 
standing  by  the  body,  which  lay  motionless  on  the  ground, 
and  which  Adams  wished  to  see  stir  much  more  than  the 
woman  did,  when  he  earnestly  begged  her  to  tell  him  by  what 
misfortune  she  came,  at  such  a  time  of  night,  into  so  lonely 
a  place.  She  acquainted  him,  she  was  travelling  towards 
London,  and  had  accidentally  met  with  the  person  from  whom 
he  had  delivered  her,  who  told  her  he  was  likewise  on  his 
journey  to  the  same  place,  and  would  keep  her  company ; 
an  offer  which,  suspecting  no  harm,  she  had  accepted;  that 
he  told  her  they  were  at  a  small  distance  from  an  inn  where 
she  might  take  up  her  lodging  that  evening,  and  he  would 
show  her  a  nearer  way  to  it  than  by  following  the  road ;  that 
if  she  had  suspected  him  (which  she  did  not,  he  spoke  so 
kindly  to  her),  being  alone  on  these  downs  in  the  dark,  she 
had  no  human  means  to  avoid  him ;  that  therefore  she  put  her 
whole  trust  in  Providence,  and  walked  on,  expecting  every 
moment  to  arrive  at  the  inn ;  when  on  a  sudden,  being  come 
to  those  bushes,  he  desired  her  to  stop,  and  after  some  rude 
kisses,  which  she  resisted,  and  some  entreaties,  which  she 
rejected,  he  laid  violent  hands  on  her,  and  was  attempting  to 
execute  his  wicked  will,  when,  she  thanked  G — ,  he  timely 

119 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

came  up  and  prevented  him.  Adams  encouraged  her  for  say- 
ing she  had  put  her  whole  trust  in  Providence,  and  told  her, 
he  doubted  not  but  Providence  had  sent  him  to  her  deliver- 
ance, as  a  reward  for  that  trust.  He  wished  indeed  he  had  not 
deprived  the  wicked  wretch  of  life,  but  G — 's  will  be  done. 
He  said,  he  hoped  the  goodness  of  his  intention  would  excuse 
him  in  the  next  world,  and  he  trusted  in  her  evidence  to 
acquit  him  in  this.  He  was  then  silent,  and  began  to  consider 
with  himself  whether  it  would  be  properer  to  make  his  escape, 
or  to  deliver  himself  into  the  hands  of  justice;  which  medi- 
tation ended  as  the  reader  will  see  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER   X. 

GIVING  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  STRANGE  CATASTROPHE  OF  THE 
PRECEDING  ADVENTURE,  WHICH  DREW  POOR  ADAMS  INTO 
FRESH  calamities;  AND  WHO  THE  WOMAN  WAS  WHO  OWED 
THE  PRESERVATION  OF  HER  CHASTITY  TO  HIS  VICTORIOUS 
ARM. 

THE  silence  of  Adams,  added  to  the  darkness  of  the  night 
and  loneliness  of  the  place,  struck  dreadful  apprehen- 
sion into  the  poor  woman's  mind ;  she  began  to  fear  as  great 
an  enemy  in  her  deliverer  as  he  had  delivered  her  from ;  and 
as  she  had  not  light  enough  to  discover  the  age  of  Adams,  and 
the  benevolence  visible  in  his  countenance,  she  suspected  he 
had  used  her  as  some  very  honest  men  have  used  their  coun- 
try ;  and  had  rescued  her  out  of  the  hands  of  one  rifler  in 
order  to  rifle  her  himself.  Such  were  the  suspicions  she  drew 
from  his  silence ;  but  indeed  they  were  ill-grounded.  He 
stood  over  his  vanquished  enemy,  wisely  weighing  in  his 
mind  the  objections  which  might  be  made  to  either  of  the  two 
methods  of  proceeding  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  his 
judgment  sometimes  inclining  to  the  one,  and  sometimes  to 
the  other;  for  both  seemed  to  him  so  equally  advisable  and 
so  equally  dangerous,  that  probably  he  would  have  ended 
his  days,  at  least  two  or  three  of  them,  on  that  very  spot, 
before  he  had  taken  any  resolution ;  at  length  he  lifted  up 

I20 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

his  eyes,  and  spied  a  light  at  a  distance,  to  which  he  instantly 
addressed  himself  with  Hens  tu,  traveller,  hens  tu!  He  pres- 
ently heard  several  voices,  and  perceived  the  light  approach- 
ing toward  him.  The  persons  who  attended  the  light  began 
some  to  laugh,  others  to  sing,  and  others  to  hollow,  at  which 
the  woman  testified  some  fear  (for  she  had  concealed  her  sus- 
picions of  the  parson  himself)  ;  but  Adams  said,  "  Be  of  good 
cheer,  damsel,  and  repose  thy  trust  in  the  same  Providence 
which  hath  hitherto  protected  thee,  and  never  will  forsake 
the  innocent."  These  people,  who  now  approached,  were 
no  other,  reader,  than  a  set  of  young  fellows,  who  came  to 
these  bushes  in  pursuit  of  a  diversion  which  they  call  bird- 
batting.  This,  if  you  are  ignorant  of  it  (as  perhaps  if  thou 
hast  never  travelled  beyond  Kensington,  Islington,  Hackney, 
or  the  Borough,  thou  mayst  be),  I  will  inform  thee,  is  per- 
formed by  holding  a  large  clapnet  before  a  lantern,  and  at 
the  same  time  beating  the  bushes ;  for  the  birds,  when  they  are 
disturbed  from  their  places  of  rest,  or  roost,  immediately 
make  to  the  light,  and  so  are  enticed  within  the  net.  Adams 
immediately  told  them  what  had  happened,  and  desired  them 
to  hold  the  lantern  to  the  face  of  the  man  on  the  ground,  for 
he  feared  he  had  smote  him  fatally.  But  indeed  his  fears 
were  frivolous ;  for  the  fellow,  though  he  had  been  stunned 
by  the  last  blow  he  received,  had  long  since  recovered  his 
senses,  and,  finding  himself  quit  of  Adams,  had  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  discourse  between  him  and  the  young  woman ; 
for  whose  departure  he  had  patiently  waited,  that  he  might 
likewise  withdraw  himself,  having  no  longer  hopes  of  suc- 
ceeding in  his  desires,  which  were  moreover  almost  as  well 
cooled  by  Mr  Adams  as  they  could  have  been  by  the  young 
woman  herself  had  he  obtained  his  utmost  wish.  This  fellow, 
who  had  a  readiness  at  improving  any  accident,  thought  he 
might  now  play  a  better  part  than  that  of  a  dead  man ;  and, 
accordingly,  the  moment  the  candle  was  held  to  his  face  he 
leapt  up,  and.  laying  hold  on  Adams,  cried  out,  "  No,  villain, 
I  am  not  dead,  though  you  and  your  wicked  whore  might  well 
think  me  so,  after  the  barbarous  cruelties  you  have  exercised 
on  me.  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  you  are  luckily  come  to  the 
assistance  of  a  poor  traveller,  who  would  otherwise  have  been 
robbed  and  murdered  by  this  vile  man  and  woman    who  led 

121 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

me  hither  out  of  my  way  from  the  high-road,  and  both  falling 
on  me  have  used  me  as  you  see."  Adams  was  going  to  an- 
swer, when  one  of  the  young  fellows  cried,  "  D — n  them,  let's 
carry  them  both  before  the  justice."  The  poor  woman  be- 
gan to  tremble,  and  Adams  lifted  up  his  voice,  but  in  vain. 
Three  or  four  of  them  laid  hands  on  him ;  and  one  holding 
the  lantern  to  his  face,  they  all  agreed  he  had  the  most  vil- 
lainous countenance  they  ever  beheld ;  and  an  attorney's  clerk, 
who  was  of  the  company,  declared  he  was  sure  he  had  re- 
membered him  at  the  bar.  As  to  the  woman,  her  hair  was 
dishevelled  in  the  struggle,  and  her  nose  had  bled ;  so  that 
they  could  not  perceive  whether  she  was  handsome  or  ugly, 
but  they  said  her  fright  plainly  discovered  her  guilt.  And 
searching  her  pockets,  as  they  did  those  of  Adams,  for  money, 
which  the  fellow  said  he  had  lost,  they  found  in  her  pocket 
a  purse  with  some  gold  in  it,  which  abundantly  convinced 
them,  especially  as  the  fellow  offered  to  swear  to  it.  Mr 
Adams  was  found  to  have  no  more  than  one  halfpenny  about 
him.  This  the  clerk  said  was  a  great  presumption  that  he 
was  an  old  offender,  by  cunningly  giving  all  the  booty  to  the 
woman.    To  which  all  the  rest  readily  assented. 

This  accident  promising  them  better  sport  than  what  they 
had  proposed,  they  quitted  their  intention  of  catching  birds, 
and  unanimously  resolved  to  proceed  to  the  justice  with  the 
offenders.  Being  informed  what  a  desperate  fellow  Adams 
was,  they  tied  his  hands  behind  him ;  and,  having  hid  their 
nets  among  the  bushes,  and  the  lantern  being  carried  before 
them,  they  placed  the  two  prisoners  in  their  front,  and  then 
began  their  march ;  Adams  not  only  submitting  patiently  to 
his  own  fate,  but  comforting  and  encouraging  his  companion 
under  her  sufferings. 

Whilst  they  were  on  their  way  the  clerk  informed  the  rest 
that  this  adventure  would  prove  a  very  beneficial  one ;  for 
that  they  would  all  be  entitled  to  their  proportions  of  80/. 
for  apprehending  the  robbers.  This  occasioned  a  contention 
concerning  the  parts  which  they  had  severally  borne  in  taking 
them ;  one  insisting  he  ought  to  have  the  greatest  share,  for 
he  had  first  laid  his  hands  on  Adams ;  another  claiming  a 
superior  part  for  having  first  held  the  lantern  to  the  man's 
face  on  the  ground,  by  which,  he  said,  the  whole  was  dis- 

122 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

covered.  The  clerk  claimed  four-fifths  of  the  reward  for  hav- 
ing proposed  to  search  the  prisoners,  and  likewise  the  car- 
rying them  before  the  justice:  he  said,  indeed,  in  strict  justice, 
he  ought  to  have  the  whole.  These  claims,  however,  they  at 
last  consented  to  refer  to  a  future  decision,  but  seemed  all 
to  agree  that  the  clerk  was  entitled  to  a  moiety.  They  then 
debated  what  money  should  be  allotted  to  the  young  fellow 
who  had  been  employed  only  in  holding  the  nets.  He  very 
modestly  said,  that  he  did  not  apprehend  any  large  proportion 
would  fall  to  his  share,  but  hoped  they  would  allow  him 
something ;  he  desired  them  to  consider  that  they  had  assigned 
their  nets  to  his  care,  which  prevented  him  from  being  as  for- 
ward as  any  in  laying  hold  of  the  robbers  (for  so  those  in- 
nocent people  were  called)  ;  that  if  he  had  not  occupied  the 
the  nets,  some  other  must;  concluding,  however,  that  he 
should  be  contented  with  the  smallest  share  imaginable,  and 
should  think  that  rather  their  bounty  than  his  merit.  But 
they  were  all  unanimous  in  excluding  him  from  any  part 
whatever,  the  clerk  particularly  swearing,  if  they  gave  him 
a  shilling  they  might  do  what  they  pleased  with  the  rest; 
for  he  would  not  concern  himself  with  the  affair.  This  con- 
tention was  so  hot,  and  so  totally  engaged  the  attention  of  all 
the  parties,  that  a  dexterous  nimble  thief,  had  he  been  in  Mr 
Adams's  situation,  would  have  taken  care  to  have  given  the 
justice  no  trouble  that  evening.  Indeed,  it  required  not  the  art 
of  a  Shepherd  to  escape,  especially  as  the  darkness  of  the 
night  would  have  so  much  befriended  him ;  but  Adams  trusted 
rather  to  his  innocence  than  his  heels,  and,  without  thinking 
of  flight,  which  was  easy,  or  resistance  (which  was  impos- 
sible, as  there  were  six  lusty  young  fellows,  besides  the  vil- 
lain himself,  present),  he  walked  with  perfect  resignation 
the  way  they  thought  proper  to  conduct  him. 

Adams  frequently  vented  himself  in  ejaculations  during 
their  journey ;  at  last,  poor  Joseph  Andrews  occurring  to  his 
mind,  he  could  not  refrain  sighing  forth  his  name,  which  be- 
ing heard  by  his  companion  in  affliction,  she  cried  with  some 
vehemence,  "  Sure  I  should  know  that  voice ;  you  cannot  cer- 
tainly, sir,  be  Mr  Abraham  Adams  ?  " — "  Indeed,  damsel," 
says  he,  "  that  is  my  name ;  there  is  something  also  in  your 
voice  which  persuades  me  I  have  heard  it  before." — "  La ! 

123 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

sir,"  says  she,  "  don't  you  remember  poor  Fanny  ?  " — "  How, 
Fanny !  "  answered  Adams :  "  indeed  I  very  well  remember 
you ;  what  can  have  brought  you  hither?  " — "  I  have  told  you, 
sir,"  replied  she,  "  I  was  travelling  towards  London ;  but  I 
thought  you  mentioned  Joseph  Andrews ;  pray  what  is  become 
of  him  ?  " — "  I  left  him,  child,  this  afternoon,"  said  Adams, 
"  in  the  stage-coach,  in  his  way  towards  our  parish,  whither 
he  is  going  to  see  you." — "  To  see  me !  La,  sir,"  answered 
Fanny,  "sure  you  jeer  me;  what  should  he  be  going  to  see 
me  for?" — "Can  you  ask  that?"  replied  Adams.  "  I  hope, 
Fanny,  you  are  not  inconstant ;  I  assure  you  he  deserves  much 
better  of  you." — "  La !  Mr  Adams,"  said  she,  "  what  is  Mr 
Joseph  to  me  ?  I  am  sure  I  never  had  any  thing  to  say  to  him, 
but  as  one  fellow-servant  might  to  another." — "  I  am  sorry  to 
hear  this,"  said  Adams ;  "  a  virtuous  passion  for  a  young  man 
is  what  no  woman  need  be  ashamed  of.  You  either  do  not  tell 
me  truth,  or  you  are  false  to  a  very  worthy  man."  Adams 
then  told  her  what  had  happened  at  the  inn,  to  which  she  lis- 
tened very  attentively;  and  a  sigh  often  escaped  from  her, 
notwithstanding  her  utmost  endeavours  to  the  contrary;  nor 
could  she  prevent  herself  from  asking  a  thousand  questions, 
which  would  have  assured  any  one  but  Adams,  who  never 
saw  farther  into  people  than  they  desired  to  let  him,  of  the 
truth  of  a  passion  she  endeavoured  to  conceal.  Indeed,  the 
fact  was,  that  this  poor  girl,  having  heard  of  Joseph's  mis- 
fortune, by  some  of  the  servants  belonging  to  the  coach  which 
we  have  formerly  mentioned  to  have  stopt  at  the  inn  while  the 
poor  youth  was  confined  to  his  bed,  that  instant  abandoned 
the  cow  she  was  milking,  and,  taking  with  her  a  little  bundle 
of  clothes  under  her  arm,  and  all  the  money  she  was  worth 
in  her  own  purse,  without  consulting  any  one,  immediately 
set  forward  in  pursuit  of  one  whom,  notwithstanding  her  shy- 
ness to  the  parson,  she  loved  with  inexpressible  violence, 
though  with  the  purest  and  most  delicate  passion.  This  shy- 
ness, therefore,  as  we  trust  it  will  recommend  her  character 
to  all  our  female  readers,  and  not  greatly  surprize  such  of  our 
males  as  are  well  acquainted  with  the  younger  part  of  the 
other  sex,  we  shall  not  give  ourselves  any  trouble  to  vindicate. 


124 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 


CHAPTER  XL 

WHAT  HAPPENED   TO   THEM    WHILE   BEFORE   THE   JUSTICE. 
CHAPTER  VERY  FULL  OF  LEARNING. 


T 


HEIR  fellow-travellers  were  so  engaged  in  the  hot  dis- 
pute concerning  the  division  of  the  reward  for  appre- 
hending these  innocent  people,  that  they  attended  very  little  to 
their  discourse.  They  were  now  arrived  at  the  justice's  house, 
and  had  sent  one  of  his  servants  in  to  acquaint  his  worship 
that  they  had  taken  two  robbers  and  brought  them  before 
him.  The  justice,  who  was  just  returned  from  a  fox-chase, 
and  had  not  yet  finished  his  dinner,  ordered  them  to  carry 
the  prisoners  into  the  stable,  whither  they  were  attended  by 
all  the  servants  in  the  house,  and  all  the  people  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, who  flocked  together  to  see  them  with  as  much 
curiosity  as  if  there  was  something  uncommon  to  be  seen,  or 
that  a  rogue  did  not  look  like  other  people. 

The  justice,  now  being  in  the  height  of  his  mirth  and  his 
cups,  bethought  himself  of  the  prisoners ;  and,  telling  his 
company  he  believed  they  should  have  good  sport  in  their 
examination,  he  ordered  them  into  his  presence.  They  had 
no  sooner  entered  the  room  than  he  began  to  revile  them, 
saying,  that  robberies  on  the  highway  were  now  grown  so 
frequent,  that  people  could  not  sleep  safely  in  their  beds,  and 
assured  them  they  both  should  be  made  examples  of  at  the 
ensuing  assizes.  After  he  had  gone  on  some  time  in  this 
manner,  he  was  reminded  by  his  clerk,  that  it  would  be  proper 
to  take  the  depositions  of  the  witnesses  against  them.  Which 
he  bid  him  do,  and  he  would  light  his  pipe  in  the  mean  time. 
Whilst  the  clerk  was  employed  in  writing  down  the  deposition 
of  the  fellow  who  had  pretended  to  be  robbed,  the  justice 
employed  himself  in  cracking  jests  on  poor  Fanny,  in  which 
he  was  seconded  by  all  the  company  at  table.  One  asked, 
whether  she  was  to  be  indicted  for  a  highway-man  ?  Another 
whispered  in  her  ear,  if  she  had  not  provided  herself  a  great 
belly,  he  was  at  her  service.  A  third  said,  he  warranted  she 
was  a  relation  of  Turpin.  To  which  one  of  the  company,  a 
great  wit,  shaking  his  head,  and  then  his  sides,  answered, 

125 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

he  believed  she  was  nearer  related  to  Turpis ;  at  which  there 
was  an  universal  laugh.  They  were  proceeding  thus  with  the 
poor  girl,  when  somebody,  smoking  the  cassock  peeping  forth 
from  under  the  great-coat  of  Adams,  cried  out,  "  What  have 
we  here,  a  parson?"  "How,  sirrah,"  says  the  justice,  "do 
you  go  a  robbing  in  the  dress  of  a  clergyman?  let  me  tell 
you  your  habit  will  not  entitle  you  to  the  benefit  of  the  clergy." 
'  Yes,"  said  the  witty  fellow,  "  he  will  have  one  benefit  of 
clergy,  he  will  be  exalted  above  the  heads  of  the  people ;  " 
at  which  there  was  a  second  laugh.  And  now  the  witty  spark, 
seeing  his  jokes  take,  began  to  rise  in  spirits;  and,  turning 
*to  Adams,  challenged  him  to  cap  verses,  and,  provoking  him 
by  giving  the  first  blow,  he  repeated, 

"  Molle  meum  levibus  cord  est  vilebile  telis." 

Upon  which  Adams,  with  a  look  full  of  ineffable  contempt, 
told  him,  he  deserved  scourging  for  his  pronunciation.  The 
witty  fellow  answered,  "  What  do  you  deserve,  doctor,  for  not 
being  able  to  answer  the  first  time?  Why,  I'll  give  one,  you 
blockhead,  with  an  S. 

"  '  Si  licet,  ut  fulvum  spectatur  in  ignibus  liaurum.'  " 

'  What,  canst  not  with  an  M  neither  ?  Thou  art  a  pretty 
fellow  for  a  parson !  Why  didst  not  steal  some  of  the  par- 
son's Latin  as  well  as  his  gown?  "  Another  at  the  table  then 
answered,  "  If  he  had,  you  would  have  been  too  hard  for  him ; 
I  remember  you  at  the  college  a  very  devil  at  this  sport;  I 
have  seen  you  catch  a  fresh  man,  for  nobody  that  knew  you 
would  engage  with  you."  "  I  have  forgot  those  things  now," 
cried  the  wit.  "  I  believe  I  could  have  done  pretty  well  for- 
merly.   Let's  see,  what  did  I  end  with  ? — an  M  again — ay 

'"Mars,  Bacchus,  Apollo,  virorum.'" 

"  I  could  have  done  it  once."  "  Ah !  evil  betide  you,  and  so 
you  can  now,"  said  the  other :  "  nobody  in  this  country  will 
undertake  you."  Adams  could  hold  no  longer:  "Friend," 
said  he,  "  I  have  a  boy  not  above  eight  years  old  who  would 
instruct  thee  that  the  last  verse  runs  thus : — 

"  Ut  sunt  Divorum,  Mars,  Bacchus,  Apollo,  virorum" 

126 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

"  I'll  hold  thee  a  guinea  of  that,"  said  the  wit,  throwing  the 
money  on  the  table.  "And  I'll  go  your  halves,"  cries  the 
other.  "  Done,"  answered  Adams ;  but  upon  applying  to  his 
pocket  he  was  forced  to  retract,  and  own  he  had  no  money 
about  him ;  which  set  them  all  a  laughing,  and  confirmed  the 
triumph  of  his  adversary,  which  was  not  moderate,  any  more 
than  the  approbation  he  met  with  from  the  whole  company, 
who  told  Adams  he  must  go  a  little  longer  to  school  before 
he  attempted  to  attack  that  gentleman  in  Latin. 

The  clerk,  having  finished  the  depositions,  as  well  of  the 
fellow  himself,  as  of  those  who  apprehended  the  prisoners, 
delivered  them  to  the  justice;  who,  having  sworn  the  several 
witnesses  without  reading  a  syllable,  ordered  his  clerk  to  make 
the  mittimus. 

Adams  then  said,  he  hoped  he  should  not  be  condemned 
unheard.  "  No,  no,"  cries  the  justice,  "  you  will  be  asked 
what  you  have  to  say  for  yourself  when  you  come  on  your 
trial :  we  are  not  trying  you  now ;  I  shall  only  commit  you  to 
gaol :  if  you  can  prove  your  innocence  at  'size,  you  will  be 
found  ignoramus,  and  so  no  harm  done."  ''  Is  it  no  pun- 
ishment, sir,  for  an  innocent  man  to  lie  several  months  in 
gaol  ?  "  cries  Adams :  "  I  beg  you  would  at  least  hear  me  be- 
fore you  sign  the  mittimus."  "  What  signifies  all  you  can 
say?"  says  the  justice:  "is  it  not  here  in  black  and  white 
against  you  ?  I  must  tell  you  you  are  a  very  impertinent  fellow 
to  take  up  so  much  of  my  time.  So  make  haste  with  his 
mittimus." 

The  clerk  now  acquainted  the  justice  that  among  other 
suspicious  things,  as  a  penknife,  &c,  found  in  Adams's  pocket, 
they  had  discovered  a  book  written,  as  he  apprehended,  in 
cyphers :  for  no  one  could  read  a  word  in  it.  "  Ay,"  says  the 
justice,  "  the  fellow  may  be  more  than  a  common  robber,  he 
may  be  in  a  plot  against  the  government.  Produce  the  book." 
Upon  which  the  poor  manuscript  of  yEschylus,  which  Adams 
had  transcribed  with  his  own  hand,  was  brought  forth ;  and 
the  justice,  looking  at  it,  shook  his  head,  and,  turning  to  the 
prisoner,  asked  the  meaning  of  those  cyphers.  "  Cyphers  ?  " 
answered  Adams,  "  it  is  a  manuscript  of  JEschylus."  "  Who  ? 
who?"  said  the  justice.  Adams  repeated,  " JEschylus." 
"  That  is  an  outlandish  name,"  cried  the  clerk.     "  A  ficti- 

127 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

tious  name  rather,  I  believe,"  said  the  justice.  One  of  the 
company  declared  it  looked  very  much  like  Greek.  "  Greek  ?  " 
said  the  justice ;  "  why  'tis  all  writing."  "  No,"  says  the  other, 
"  I  don't  positively  say  it  is  so ;  for  it  is  a  very  long  time  since 
I  have  seen  any  Greek."  "  There's  one,"  says  he,  turning  to 
the  parson  of  the  parish,  who  was  present,  "  will  tell  us  imme- 
diately." The  parson,  taking  up  the  book,  and  putting  on  his 
spectacles  and  gravity  together,  muttered  some  words  to  him- 
self, and  then  pronounced  aloud — "  Aye,  indeed,  it  is  a  Greek 
manuscript ;  a  very  fine  piece  of  antiquity.  I  make  no  doubt 
but  it  was  stolen  from  the  same  clergyman  from  whom  the 
rogue  took  the  cassock."  "  What  did  the  rascal  mean  by  his 
yEschylus?"  says  the  justice.  "Pooh!"  answered  the  doc- 
tor, with  a  contemptuous  grin,  "  do  you  think  that  fellow  knows 
anything  of  this  book  ?  ^Eschylus  !  ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  I  see  now 
what  it  is — a  manuscript  of  one  of  the  fathers.  I  know  a 
nobleman  who  would  give  a  great  deal  of  money  for  such  a 
piece  of  antiquity.  Aye,  aye,  question  and  answer.  The  be- 
ginning is  the  catechism  in  Greek.     Aye,  aye,  Pollaki  toi: 

What's  your  name  ?  " "  Aye,  what's  your  name  ?  "  says 

the  justice  to  Adams;  who  answered,  "  It  is  yEschylus,  and  I 
will  maintain  it." — "  O !  it  is,"  says  the  justice :  "  make  Mr 
YEschylus  his  mittimus.  I  will  teach  you  to  banter  me  with 
a  false  name." 

One  of  the  company,  having  looked  steadfastly  at  Adams, 
asked  him,  if  he  did  not  know  Lady  Booby?  Upon  which 
Adams,  presently  calling  him  to  mind,  answered  in  a  rapture, 
"O  squire!  are  you  there?  I  believe  you  will  inform  his 
worship  I  am  innocent." — "  I  can  indeed  say,"  replied  the 
squire,  "  that  I  am  very  much  surprized  to  see  you  in  this 
situation  :  "  and  then,  addressing  himself  to  the  justice,  he 
said,  "  Sir,  I  assure  you  Mr  Adams  is  a  clergyman,  as  he 
appears,  and  a  gentleman  of  a  very  good  character.  I  wish 
you  would  inquire  a  little  farther  into  this  affair ;  for  I  am 
convinced  of  his  innocence." — "  Nay."  says  the  justice,  "  if  he 
is  a  gentleman,  and  you  are  sure  he  is  innocent,  I  don't 
desire  to  commit  him,  not  I :  I  will  commit  the  woman  by 
herself,  and  take  your  bail  for  the  gentleman :  look  into  the 
book,  clerk,  and  see  how  it  is  to  take  bail — come — and  make 
the  mittimus  for  the  woman  as  fast  as  you  can." — "  Sir,"  cries 

128 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

Adams,  "  I  assure  you  she  is  as  innocent  as  myself." — "  Per- 
haps," said  the  squire,  "  there  may  be  some  mistake :  pray 
let  us  hear  Mr  Adams's  relation." — "  With  all  my  heart," 
answered  the  justice;  "and  give  the  gentleman  a  glass  to 
whet  his  whistle  before  he  begins.  I  know  how  to  behave 
myself  to  a  gentleman  as  well  as  another.  Nobody  can  say 
I  have  committed  a  gentleman  since  I  have  been  in  the  com- 
mission." Adams  then  began  the  narrative,  in  which,  though 
he  was  very  prolix,  he  was  uninterrupted,  unless  by  several 
hums  and  hahs  of  the  justice,  and  his  desire  to  repeat  those 
parts  which  seemed  to  him  most  material.  When  he  had 
finished,  the  justice,  who,  on  what  the  squire  had  said,  be- 
lieved every  syllable  of  his  story  on  his  bare  affirmation,  not- 
withstanding the  depositions  on  oath  to  the  contrary,  began 
to  let  loose  several  rogues  and  rascals  against  the  witness, 
whom  he  ordered  to  stand  forth,  but  in  vain ;  the  witness, 
long  since  finding  what  turn  matters  were  likely  to  take,  had 
privily  withdrawn,  without  attending  the  issue.  The  justice 
now  flew  into  a  violent  passion,  and  was  hardly  prevailed  with 
not  to  commit  the  innocent  fellows  who  had  been  imposed  on 
as  well  as  himself.  He  swore,  they  had  best  find  out  the 
fellow  who  was  guilty  of  perjury,  and  bring  him  before  him 
within  two  days,  or  he  would  bind  them  all  over  to  their 
good  behaviour.  They  all  promised  to  use  their  best  endea- 
vours to  that  purpose,  and  were  dismissed.  Then  the  justice 
insisted  that  Mr  Adams  should  sit  down  and  take  a  glass  with 
him;  and  the  parson  of  the  parish  delivered  him  back  the 
manuscript  without  saying  a  word;  nor  would  Adams,  who 
plainly  discerned  his  ignorance,  expose  it.  As  for  Fanny,  she 
was,  at  her  own  request,  recommended  to  the  care  of  a  maid- 
servant of  the  house,  who  helped  her  to  new  dress  and  clean 
herself. 

The  company  in  the  parlour  had  not  been  long  seated  be- 
fore they  were  alarmed  with  a  horrible  uproar  from  without, 
where  the  persons  who  had  apprehended  Adams  and  Fanny 
had  been  regaling,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  house,  with 
the  justice's  strong  beer.  These  were  all  fallen  together  by 
the  ears,  and  were  cuffing  each  other  without  any  mercy.  The 
justice  himself  sallied  out,  and  with  the  dignity  of  his  pres- 
ence soon  put  an  end  to  the  fray.  On  his  return  into  the. 
9  129 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

parlour,  he  reported,  that  the  occasion  of  the  quarrel  was  no 
other  than  a  dispute  to  whom,  if  Adams  had  been  convicted, 
the  greater  share  of  the  reward  for  apprehending  him  had 
belonged.  All  the  company  laughed  at  this,  except  Adams, 
who,  taking  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  fetched  a  deep  groan, 
and  said,  he  was  concerned  to  see  so  litigious  a  temper  in 
men.  That  he  remembered  a  story  something  like  it  in  one 
of  the  parishes  where  his  cure  lay : — "  There  was,"  continued 
he,  "  a  competition  between  three  young  fellows  for  the  place 
of  the  clerk,  which  I  disposed  of,  to  the  best  of  my  abilities,  ac- 
cording to  merit ;  that  is,  I  gave  it  to  him  who  had  the  happiest 
knack  at  setting  a  psalm.  The  clerk  was  no  sooner  established 
in  his  place  than  a  contention  began  between  the  two  dis- 
appointed candidates  concerning  their  excellence ;  each  con- 
tending on  whom,  had  they  two  been  the  only  competitors, 
my  election  would  have  fallen.  This  dispute  frequently  dis- 
turbed the  congregation,  and  introduced  a  discord  into  the 
psalmody,  till  I  was  forced  to  silence  them  both.  But  alas ! 
the  litigious  spirit  could  not  be  stifled ;  and,  being  no  longer 
able  to  vent  itself  in  singing,  it  now  broke  forth  in  fighting. 
It  produced  many  battles  (for  they  were  very  near  a  match), 
and  I  believe  would  have  ended  fatally,  had  not  the  death 
of  the  clerk  given  me  an  opportunity  to  promote  one  of  them 
to  his  place ;  which  presently  put  an  end  to  the  dispute,  and 
entirely  reconciled  the  contending  parties."  Adams  then  pro- 
ceeded to  make  some  philosophical  observations  on  the  folly 
of  growing  warm  in  disputes  in  which  neither  party  is  in- 
terested. He  then  applied  himself  vigorously  to  smoking; 
and  a  long  silence  ensued,  which  was  at  length  broke  by  the 
justice,  who  began  to  sing  forth  his  own  praises,  and  to  value 
himself  exceedingly  on  his  nice  discernment  in  the  cause 
which  had  lately  been  before  him.  He  was  quickly  interrupted 
by  Mr  Adams,  between  whom  and  his  worship  a  dispute  now 
arose,  whether  he  ought  not,  in  strictness  of  law,  to  have 
committed  him,  the  said  Adams;  in  which  the  latter  main- 
tained he  ought  to  have  been  committed,  and  the  justice  as 
vehemently  held  he  ought  not.  This  had  most  probably  pro- 
duced a  quarrel  (for  both  were  very  violent  and  positive  in 
their  opinions),  had  not  Fanny  accidentally  heard  that  a 
young  fellow  was  going  from  the  justice's  house  to  the  very 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

inn  where  the  stage-coach  in  which  Joseph  was  put  up.  Upon 
this  news,  she  immediately  sent  for  the  parson  out  of  the 
parlour.  Adams,  when  he  found  her  resolute  to  go  (though 
she  would  not  own  the  reason,  but  pretended  she  could  not 
bear  to  see  the  faces  of  those  who  had  suspected  her  of  such 
a  crime),  was  as  fully  determined  to  go  with  her;  he  accord- 
ingly took  leave  of  the  justice  and  company:  and  so  ended 
a  dispute  in  which  the  law  seemed  shamefully  to  intend  to 
set  a  magistrate  and  a  divine  together  by  the  ears. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A    VERY   DELIGHTFUL   ADVENTURE,    AS    WELL   TO    THE    PERSONS 
CONCERNED  AS  TO  THE  GOOD-NATURED  READER. 

ADAMS,  Fanny,  and  the  guide,  set  out  together  about  one 
jljL  in  the  morning,  the  moon  being  then  just  risen.  They 
had  not  gone  above  a  mile  before  a  most  violent  storm  of 
rain  obliged  them  to  take  shelter  in  an  inn,  or  rather  alehouse, 
where  Adams  immediately  procured  himself  a  good  fire,  a 
toast  and  ale,  and  a  pipe,  and  began  to  smoke  with  great  con- 
tent, utterly  forgetting  everything  that  had  happened. 

Fanny  sat  likewise  down  by  the  fire ;  but  was  much  more 
impatient  at  the  storm.  She  presently  engaged  the  eyes  of 
the  host,  his  wife,  the  maid  of  the  house,  and  the  young  fel- 
low who  was  their  guide;  they  all  conceived  they  had  never 
seen  anything  half  so  handsome ;  and  indeed,  reader,  if  thou 
art  of  an  amorous  hue,  I  advise  thee  to  skip  over  the  next 
paragraph ;  which,  to  render  our  history  perfect,  we  are 
obliged  to  set  down,  humbly  hoping  that  we  may  escape  the 
fate  of  Pygmalion;  for  if  it  should  happen  to  us,  or  to  thee, 
to  be  struck  with  this  picture,  we  should  be  perhaps  in  as 
helpless  a  condition  as  Narcissus,  and  might  say  to  ourselves, 
quod  petis  est  nusquam.    Or,  if  the  finest  features  in  it  should 

set  Lady 's  image  before  our  eyes,  we  should  be  still  in 

as  bad  a  situation,  and  might  say  to  our  desires,  Coclum  ipsum 
pctimus  stultitia. 

Fanny  was  now  in  the  nineteenth  year  of  her  age ;  she  was 

131 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

tall  and  delicately  shaped ;  but  not  one  of  those  slender  young 
women  who  seem  rather  intended  to  hang  up  in  the  hall  of  an 
anatomist  than  for  any  other  purpose.  On  the  contrary,  she 
was  so  plump  that  she  seemed  bursting  through  her  tight 
stays,  especially  in  the  part  which  confined  her  swelling 
breasts.  Nor  did  her  hips  want  the  assistance  of  a  hoop  to  ex- 
tend them.  The  exact  shape  of  her  arms  denoted  the  form 
of  those  limbs  which  she  concealed;  and  though  they  were 
a  little  reddened  by  her  labour,  yet,  if  her  sleeve  slipped  above 
her  elbow,  or  her  handkerchief  discovered  any  part  of  her 
neck,  a  whiteness  appeared  which  the  finest  Italian  paint  would 
be  unable  to  reach.  Her  hair  was  of  a  chestnut  brown,  and 
nature  had  been  extremely  lavish  to  her  of  it,  which  she  had 
■  cut,  and  on  Sundays  used  to  curl  down  her  neck,  in  the  mod- 
ern fashion.  Her  forehead  was  high,  her  eyebrows  arched, 
and  rather  full  than  otherwise.  Her  eyes  black  and  sparkling ; 
her  nose  just  inclining  to  the  Roman ;  her  lips  red  and  moist, 
and  her  under  lip,  according  to  the  opinion  of  the  ladies,  too 
pouting.  Her  teeth  were  white,  but  not  exactly  even.  The 
small-pox  had  left  one  only  mark  on  her  chin,  which  was  so 
large,  it  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  dimple,  had  not  her 
left  cheek  produced  one  so  near  a  neighbour  to  it,  that  the 
former  served  only  for  a  foil  to  the  latter.  Her  complexion 
was  fair,  a  little  injured  by  the  sun,  but  overspread  with  such 
a  bloom  that  the  finest  ladies  would  have  exchanged  all  their 
white  for  it :  add  to  these  a  countenance  in  which,  though 
she  was  extremely  bashful,  a  sensibility  appeared  almost  in- 
credible ;  and  a  sweetness,  whenever  she  smiled,  beyond  either 
imitation  or  description.  To  conclude  all,  she  had  a  natural 
gentility  superior  to  the  acquisition  of  art,  and  which  sur- 
prized all  who  beheld  her. 

This  lovely  creature  was  sitting  by  the  fire  with  Adams, 
when  her  attention  was  suddenly  engaged  by  a  voice  from 
an  inner  room,  which  sung  the  following  song: — 

THE  SONG. 

Say,  Chloe,  where  must  the  swain  stray 

Who  is  by  thy  beauties  undone? 
To  wash  their  remembrance  away, 

To  what  distant  Lethe  must  run? 

132 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

The  wretch  who  is  sentenced  to  die 
May  escape,  and  leave  justice  behind; 

From  his  country  perhaps  he  may  fly, 
But  O !  can  he  fly  from  his  mind  ? 


O  rapture !  unthought  of  before, 

To  be  thus  of  Chloe  possess'd ; 
Nor  she,  nor  no  tyrant's  hard  power, 

Her  image  can  tear  from  my  breast. 
But  felt  not  Narcissus  more  joy, 

With  his  eyes  he  beheld  his  loved  charms? 
Yet  what  he  beheld  the  fond  boy 

More  eagerly  wish'd  in  his  arms. 


How  can  it  thy  dear  image  be 

Which  fills  thus  my  bosom  with  woe? 
Can  aught  bear  resemblance  to  thee 

Which  grief  and  not  joy  can  bestow? 
This  counterfeit  snatch  from  my  heart, 

Ye  pow'rs,  tho'  with  torment  I  rave, 
Tho'  mortal  will  prove  the  fell  smart : 

I  then  shall  find  rest  in  my  grave. 


Ah,  see  the  dear  nymph  o'er  the  plain 

Come  smiling  and  tripping  along ! 
A  thousand  Loves  dance  in  her  train, 

The  Graces  around  her  all  throng. 
To  meet  her  soft  Zephyrus  flies, 

And  wafts  all  the  sweets  from  the  flowers, 
Ah,  rogue !  whilst  he  kisses  her  eyes, 

More  sweets  from  her  breath  he  devours. 


My  soul,  whilst  I  gaze,  is  on  fire: 

But  her  looks  were  so  tender  and  kind, 
My  hope  almost  reach'd  my  desire, 

And  left  lame  despair  far  behind. 
Transported  with  madness,  I  flew, 

And  eagerly  seized  on  my  bliss ; 
Her  bosom  but  half  she  withdrew, 

But  half  she  refused  my  fond  kiss. 

*33 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

Advances  like  these  made  me  bold ; 

I  whisper'd  her, — love,  we're  alone. — 
The  rest  let  immortals  unfold ; 

No  language  can  tell  but  their  own. 
Ah,  Chloe,  expiring,  I  cried, 

How  long  I  thy  cruelty  bore! 
Ah,  Strephon,  she  blushing  replied, 

You  ne'er  was  so  pressing  before. 

Adams  had  been  ruminating  all  this  time  on  a  passage  in 
^Eschylus,  without  attending  in  the  least  to  the  voice,  though 
one  of  the  most  melodious  that  ever  was  heard,  when,  cast- 
ing his  eyes  on  Fanny,  he  cried  out,  "  Bless  us,  you  look  ex- 
tremely pale  !  " — "  Pale !  Mr  Adams,"  says  she;  "  O  Jesus  !  " 
and  fell  backwards  in  her  chair.  Adams  jumped  up,  flung 
his  ^Eschylus  into  the  fire,  and  fell  a  roaring  to  the  people 
of  the  house  for  help.  He  soon  summoned  every  one  into 
the  room,  and  the  songster  among  the  rest ;  but,  O  reader ! 
when  this  nightingale,  who  was  no  other  than  Joseph  An- 
drews himself,  saw  his  beloved  Fanny  in  the  situation  we 
have  described  her,  canst  thou  conceive  the  agitations  of  his 
mind?  If  thou  canst  not,  wave  that  meditation  to  behold 
his  happiness,  when,  clasping  her  in  his  arms,  he  found  life 
and  blood  returning  into  her  cheeks ;  when  he  saw  her  open 
her  beloved  eyes,  and  heard  her  with  the  softest  accent  whis- 
per, "  Are  you  Joseph  Andrews?  " — "  Art  thou  my  Fanny?  " 
he  answered  eagerly;  and,  pulling  her  to  his  heart,  he  im- 
printed numberless  kisses  on  her  lips,  without  considering  who 
were  present. 
J  If  prudes  are  offended  at  the  lusciousness  of  this  picture, 

they  may  take  their  eyes  off  from  it,  and  survey  parson  Adams 
dancing  about  the  room  in  a  rapture  of  joy.  Some  philoso- 
phers may  perhaps  doubt  whether  he  was  not  the  happiest 
of  the  three;  for  the  goodness  of  his  heart  enjoyed  the  bless- 
ings which  were  exulting  in  the  breasts  of  both  the  other  two, 
together  with  his  own.  But  we  shall  leave  such  disquisitions, 
as  too  deep  for  us,  to  those  who  are  building  some  favourite 
hypothesis,  which  they  will  refuse  no  metaphysical  rubbish 
to  erect  and  support :  for  our  part,  we  give  it  clearly  on  the 
side  of  Joseph,  whose  happiness  was  not  only  greater  than 
the  parson's,  but  of  longer  duration ;  for  as  soon  as  the  first 

T34 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

tumults  of  Adams's  rapture  were  over  he  cast  his  eyes  towards 
the  lire,  where  /Eschylus  lay  expiring;  and  immediately  res- 
cued the  poor  remains,  to  wit,  the  sheep-skin  covering,  of  his 
clear  friend,  which  was  the  work  of  his  own  hands,  and  had 
been  his  inseparable  companion  for  upwards  of  thirty  years. 

Fanny  had  no  sooner  perfectly  recovered  herself  than  she 
began  to  restrain  the  impetuosity  of  her  transports ;  and,  re- 
flecting on  what  she  had  done  and  suffered  in  the  presence 
of  so  many,  she  was  immediately  covered  with  confusion ; 
and,  pushing  Joseph  gently  from  her,  she  begged  him  to  be 
quiet,  nor  would  admit  of  either  kiss  or  embrace  any  longer. 
Then,  seeing  Mrs  Slipslop,  she  curtsied,  and  offered  to  ad- 
vance to  her;  but  that  high  woman  would  not  return  her 
curtsies ;  but,  casting  her  eyes  another  way,  immediately  with- 
drew into  another  room,  muttering,  as  she  went,  she  wondered 
who  the  creature  was. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

A  DISSERTATION  CONCERNING  HIGH  PEOPLE  AND  LOW  PEOPLE, 
WITH  MRS  SLIPSLOP'S  DEPARTURE  IN  NO  VERY  GOOD  TEMPER 
OF  MIND,  AND  THE  EVIL  PLIGHT  IN  WHICH  SHE  LEFT  ADAMS 
AND   HIS  COMPANY. 

IT  will  doubtless  seem  extremely  odd  to  many  readers,  that 
Mrs  Slipslop,  who  had  lived  several  years  in  the  same 
house  with  Fanny,  should,  in  a  short  separation,  utterly  for- 
get her.  And  indeed  the  truth  is,  that  she  remembered  her 
very  well.  As  we  would  not  willingly,  therefore,  that  any- 
thing should  appear  unnatural  in  this  our  history,  we  will 
endeavour  to  explain  the  reasons  of  her  conduct ;  nor  do  we 
doubt  being  able  to  satisfy  the  most  curious  reader  that  Mrs 
Slipslop  did  not  in  the  least  deviate  from  the  common  road 
in  this  behaviour;  and,  indeed,  had  she  done  otherwise,  she 
must  have  descended  below  herself,  and  would  have  very 
justly  been  liable  to  censure. 

Be  it  known  then,  that  the  human  species  are  divided  into 
two  sorts  of  people,  to  wit,  high  people  and  low  people.    As 

*35 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

by  high  people  I  would  not  be  understood  to  mean  persons 
literally  born  higher  in  their  dimensions  than  the  rest  of  the 
species,  nor  metaphorically  those  of  exalted  characters  or 
abilities ;  so  by  low  people  I  cannot  be  construed  to  intend  the 
reverse.  High  people  signify  no  other  than  people  of  fashion, 
and  low  people  those  of  no  fashion.  Now,  this  word  fashion 
hath  by  long  use  lost  its  original  meaning,  from  which  at 
present  it  gives  us  a  very  different  idea;  for  I  am  deceived 
if  by  persons  of  fashion  we  do  not  generally  include  a  concep- 
tion of  birth  and  accomplishments  superior  to  the  herd  of 
mankind ;  whereas,  in  reality,  nothing  more  was  originally 
meant  by  a  person  of  fashion  than  a  person  who  drest  him- 
self in  the  fashion  of  the  times ;  and  the  word  really  and  truly 
signifies  no  more  at  this  day.  Now,  the  world  being  thus 
divided  into  people  of  fashion  and  people  of  no  fashion,  a 
fierce  contention  arose  between  them ;  nor  would  those  of  one 
party,  to  avoid  suspicion,  be  seen  publicly  to  speak  to  those 
of  the  other,  though  they  often  held  a  very  good  correspon- 
dence in  private.  In  this  contention  it  is  difficult  to  say  which 
party  succeeded :  for,  whilst  the  people  of  fashion  seized  sev- 
eral places  to  their  own  use,  such  as  courts,  assemblies,  operas, 
balls,  &c,  the  people  of  no  fashion,  besides  one  royal  place, 
called  his  Majesty's  Bear-garden,  have  been  in  constant  pos- 
session of  all  hops,  fairs,  revels,  &c.  Two  places  have  been 
agreed  to  be  divided  between  them,  namely,  the  church  and 
the  playhouse,  where  they  segregate  themselves  from  each 
other  in  a  remarkable  manner;  for,  as  the  people  of  fashion 
exalt  themselves  at  church  over  the  heads  of  the  people  of  no 
fashion,  so  in  the  playhouse  they  abase  themselves  in  the  same 
degree  under  their  feet.  This  distinction  I  have  never  met 
with  any  one  able  to  account  for :  it  is  sufficient  that,  so  far 
from  looking  on  each  other  as  brethren  in  the  Christian  lan- 
guage, they  seem  scarce  to  regard  each  other  as  of  the  same 
species.  This,  the  terms  "  strange  persons,  people  one  does 
not  know,  the  creature,  wretches,  beasts,  brutes,"  and  many 
other  appellations  evidently  demonstrate ;  which  Mrs  Slipslop, 
having  often  heard  her  mistress  use,  thought  she  had  also  a 
right  to  use  in  her  turn  ;  and  perhaps  she  was  not  mistaken  ;  for 
these  two  parties,  especially  those  bordering  nearly  on  each 
other,  to  wit,  the  lowest  of  the  high,  and  the  highest  of  the 

136 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

low,  often  change  their  parties  according  to  place  and  time ; 
for  those  who  are  people  of  fashion  in  one  place  are  often 
people  of  no  fashion  in  another.  And  with  regard  to  time, 
it  may  not  be  unpleasant  to  survey  the  picture  of  dependence 
like  a  kind  of  ladder :  as,  for  instance ;  early  in  the  morning 
arises  the  postilion,  or  some  other  boy,  which  great  families, 
no  more  than  great  ships,  are  without,  and  falls  to  brushing 
the  clothes  and  cleaning  the  shoes  of  John  the  footman ; 
who,  being  drest  himself,  applies  his  hands  to  the  same  la- 
bours for  Mr  Second-hand,  the  squire's  gentleman;  the  gen- 
tleman in  the  like  manner,  a  little  later  in  the  day,  attends 
the  squire ;  the  squire  is  no  sooner  equipped  than  he  attends 
the  levee  of  my  lord ;  which  is  no  sooner  over  than  my  lord 
himself  is  seen  at  the  levee  of  the  favourite,  who,  after  the 
hour  of  homage  is  at  an  end,  appears  himself  to  pay  homage 
to  the  levee  of  his  sovereign.  Nor  is  there,  perhaps,  in  this 
whole  ladder  of  dependence,  any  one  step  at  a  greater  distance 
from  the  other  than  the  first  from  the  second ;  so  that  to  a 
philosopher  the  question  might  only  seem,  whether  you  would 
choose  to  be  a  great  man  at  six  in  the  morning  or  at  two  in 
the  afternoon.  And  yet  there  are  scarce  two  of  these  who  do 
not  think  the  least  familiarity  with  the  persons  below  them  a 
condescension,  and,  if  they  were  to  go  one  step  farther,  a 
degradation. 
^  And  now,  reader,  I  hope  thou  wilt  pardon  this  long  digres- 
sion, which  seemed  to  me  necessary  to  vindicate  the  great  char- 
acter of  Mrs  Slipslop  from  what  low  people,  who  have  never 
seen  high  people,  might  think  an  absurdity;  but  we  who 
know  them  must  have  daily  found  very  high  persons  know  us 
in  one  place  and  not  in  another,  to-day  and  not  to-morrow; 
all  which  it  is  difficult  to  account  for  otherwise  than  I  have 
here  endeavoured ;  and  perhaps,  if  the  gods,  according  to  the 
opinion  of  some,  made  men  only  to  laugh  at  them,  there  is  no 
part  of  our  behaviour  which  answers  the  end  of  our  creation 
better  than  this. 

But  to  return  to  our  history :  Adams,  who  knew  no  more 
of  this  than  the  cat  which  sat  on  the  table,  imagining  Mrs 
Slipslop's  memory  had  been  much  worse  than  it  really  was, 
followed  her  into  the  next  room,  crying  out,  "  Madam  Slip- 
slop, here  is  one  of  your  old  acquaintance;  do  but  see  what 

137 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

a  fine  woman  she  is  grown  since  she  left  Lady  Booby's  ser- 
vice."— "  I  think  I  reflect  something  of  her,"  answered  she, 
with  great  dignity,  "  but  I  can't  remember  all  the  inferior 
servants  in  our  family."  She  then  proceeded  to  satisfy 
Adams's  curiosity,  by  telling  him,  when  she  arrived  at  the 
inn,  she  found  a  chaise  ready  for  her;  that,  her  lady  being 
expected  very  shortly  in  the  country,  she  was  obliged  to 
make  the  utmost  haste;  and,  in  commensuration  of  Joseph's 
lameness,  she  had  taken  him  with  her;  and  lastly,  that  the 
excessive  virulence  of  the  storm  had  driven  them  into  the 
house  where  he  found  them.  After  which,  she  acquainted 
Adams  with  his  having  left  his  horse,  and  exprest  some  won- 
der at  his  having  strayed  so  far  out  of  his  way,  and  at  meet- 
ing him,  as  she  said,  in  the  company  of  that  wench,  who  she 
feared  was  no  better  than  she  should  be. 

The  horse  was  no  sooner  put  into  Adams's  head  but  he  was 
immediately  driven  out  by  this  reflection  on  the  character  of 
Fanny.  He  protested,  he  believed  there  was  not  a  chaster 
damsel  in  the  universe.  "  I  heartily  wish,  I  heartily  wish," 
cried  he  (snapping  his  fingers),  "that  all  her  betters  were  as 
good."  He  then  proceeded  to  inform  her  of  the  accident  of 
their  meeting;  but  when  he  came  to  mention  the  circumstance 
of  delivering  her  from  the  rape,  she  said,  she  thought  him 
properer  for  the  army  than  the  clergy ;  that  it  did  not  become 
a  clergyman  to  lay  violent  hands  on  any  one ;  that  he  should 
have  rather  prayed  that  she  might  be  strengthened.  Adams 
said,  he  was  very  far  from  being  ashamed  of  what  he  had 
done :  she  replied,  want  of  shame  was  not  the  currycuristic  of 
a  clergyman.  This  dialogue  might  have  probably  grown 
warmer,  had  not  Joseph  opportunely  entered  the  room,  to  ask 
leave  of  Madam  Slipslop  to  introduce  Fanny ;  but  she  positively 
refused  to  admit  any  such  trollops,  and  told  him,  she  would 
have  been  burnt  before  she  would  have  suffered  him  to  get 
into  a  chaise  with  her,  if  she  had  once  repected  him  of  having 
his  sluts  waylaid  on  the  road  for  him ;  adding,  that  Mr  Adams 
acted  a  very  pretty  part,  and  she  did  not  doubt  but  to  see  him 
a  bishop.  He  made  the  best  bow  he  could,  and  cried  out,  "  I 
thank  you,  madam,  for  that  right-reverend  appellation,  which 
I  shall  take  all  honest  means  to  deserve." — "Very  honest 
means,"  returned  she  with  a  sneer,  "  to  bring  good  people  to- 

138 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

gether."  At  these  words  Adams  took  two  or  three  strides 
across  the  room,  when  the  coachman  came  to  inform  Mrs 
Slipslop  that  the  storm  was  over,  and  the  moon  shone  very 
bright.  She  then  sent  for  Joseph,  who  was  sitting  without 
with  his  Fanny,  and  would  have  had  him  gone  with  her ; 
but  he  peremptorily  refused  to  leave  Fanny  behind,  which 
threw  the  good  woman  into  a  violent  rage.  She  said  she 
would  inform  her  lady  what  doings  were  carrying  on,  and 
did  not  doubt  but  she  would  rid  the  parish  of  all  such  people ; 
and  concluded  a  long  speech,  full  of  bitterness  and  very  hard 
words,  and  with  some  reflections  on  the  clergy  not  decent  to 
repeat;  at  last,  finding  Joseph  unmovable,  she  flung  herself 
into  the  chaise,  casting  a  look  at  Fanny  as  she  went,  not  un- 
like that  which  Cleopatra  gives  Octavia  in  the  play.  To  say 
the  truth,  she  was  most  disagreeably  disappointed  by  the  pres- 
ence of  Fanny:  she  had,  from  her  first  seeing  Joseph  at  the 
inn,  conceived  hopes  of  something  which  might  have  been 
accomplished  at  an  alehouse  as  well  as  a  palace.  Indeed,  it 
is  probable  Mr  Adams  had  rescued  more  than  Fanny  from  the 
danger  of  a  rape  that  evening. 

When  the  chaise  had  carried  off  the  enraged  Slipslop, 
Adams,  Joseph,  and  Fanny  assembled  over  the  fire,  where 
they  had  a  great  deal  of  innocent  chat,  pretty  enough ;  but, 
as  possibly  it  would  not  be  very  entertaining  to  the  reader, 
we  shall  hasten  to  the  morning;  only  observing  that  none  of 
them  went  to  bed  that  night.  Adams,  when  he  had  smoked 
three  pipes,  took  a  comfortable  nap  in  a  great  chair,  and  left 
the  lovers,  whose  eyes  were  too  well  employed  to  permit  any 
desire  of  shutting  them,  to  enjoy  by  themselves,  during  some 
hours,  an  happiness  of  which  none  of  my  readers  who  have 
never  been  in  love  are  capable  of  the  least  conception,  though 
we  had  as  many  tongues  as  Homer  desired,  to  describe  it  with, 
and  which  all  true  lovers  will  represent  to  their  own  minds 
without  the  least  assistance  from  us. 

Let  it  suffice  then  to  say,  that  Fanny,  after  a  thousand 
entreaties,  at  last  gave  up  her  whole  soul  to  Joseph;  and, 
almost  fainting  in  his  arms,  with  a  sigh  infinitely  softer  and 
sweeter  too  than  any  Arabian  breeze,  she  whispered  to  his 
lips,  which  were  then  close  to  hers,  "  O  Joseph,  you  have  won 
me;  I  will  be  yours  for  ever."    Joseph,  having  thanked  her 

i39 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

on  his  knees,  and  embraced  her  with  an  eagerness  which  she 
now  almost  returned,  leapt  up  in  a  rapture,  and  awakened 
the  parson,  earnestly  begging  him  that  he  would  that  instant 
join  their  hands  together.  Adams  rebuked  him  for  his  re- 
quest, and  told  him  he  would  by  no  means  consent  to  any- 
thing contrary  to  the  forms  of  the  church;  that  he  had  no 
licence,  nor  indeed  would  he  advise  him  to  obtain  one:  that 
the  church  had  prescribed  a  form, — namely,  the  publication 
of  banns, — with  which  all  good  Christians  ought  to  comply, 
and  to  the  omission  of  which  he  attributed  the  many  miseries 
which  befel  great  folks  in  marriage;  concluding,  "As  many 
as  are  joined  together  otherwise  than  God's  word  doth  allow, 
are  not  joined  together  by  God,  neither  is  their  matrimony 
lawful."  Fanny  agreed  with  the  parson,  saying  to  Joseph, 
with  a  blush,  she  assured  him  she  would  not  consent  to  any 
such  thing,  and  that  she  wondered  at  his  offering  it.  In 
which  resolution  she  was  comforted  and  commended  by 
Adams ;  and  Joseph  was  obliged  to  wait  patiently  till  after  the 
third  publication  of  the  banns,  which  however  he  obtained 
the  consent  of  Fanny,  in  the  presence  of  Adams,  to  put  in  at 
their  arrival. 

The  sun  had  now  been  risen  some  hours,  when  Joseph, 
finding  his  leg  surprizingly  recovered,  proposed  to  walk  for- 
wards; but  when  they  were  all  ready  to  set  out,  an  accident 
a  little  retarded  them.  This  was  no  other  than  the  reckoning, 
which  amounted  to  seven  shillings;  no  great  sum  if  we  con- 
sider the  immense  quantity  of  ale  which  Mr  Adams  poured  in. 
Indeed,  they  had  no  objection  to  the  reasonableness  of  the 
bill,  but  many  to  the  probability  of  paying  it;  for  the  fellow 
who  had  taken  poor  Fanny's  purse  had  unluckily  forgot  to 
return  it.    So  that  the  account  stood  thus : 


t.  s.  d. 
Mr  Adams  and  company,  Dr 070 

In  Mr  Adams's  pocket 00    6l/2 

In  Mr  Joseph's       000 

In  Mrs  Fanny's 000 


Balance     ....06    $l/2 
140 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

They  stood  silent  some  few  minutes,  staring  at  each  other, 
when  Adams  whipt  out  on  his  toes,  and  asked  the  hostess,  if 
there  was  no  clergyman  in  that  parish  ?  She  answered,  there 
was.  "Is  he  wealthy?"  replied  he;  to  which  she  likewise 
answered  in  the  affirmative.  Adams  then  snapping  his  fingers 
returned  overjoyed  to  his  companions,  crying  out,  "  Heureka, 
Heureka ;  "  which  not  being  understood,  he  told  them  in  plain 
English,  they  need  give  themselves  no  trouble,  for  he  had 
a  brother  in  the  parish  who  would  defray  the  reckoning,  and 
that  he  would  just  step  to  his  house  and  fetch  the  money,  and 
return  to  them  instantly. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

AN    INTERVIEW    BETWEEN    PARSON    ADAMS   AND    PARSON 

TRULLIBER. 

PARSON  ADAMS  came  to  the  house  of  Parson  Trul- 
liber,  whom  he  found  stript  into  his  waistcoat,  with  an 
apron  on,  and  a  pail  in  his  hand,  just  come  from  serving  his 
hogs ;  for  Mr  Trulliber  was  a  parson  on  Sundays,  but  all  the 
other  six  might  more  properly  be  called  a  farmer.  He  occu- 
pied a  small  piece  of  land  of  his  own,  besides  which  he  rented 
a  considerable  deal  more.  His  wife  milked  his  cows,  managed 
his  dairy,  and  followed  the  markets  with  butter  and  eggs. 
The  hogs  fell  chiefly  to  his  care,  which  he  carefully  waited  on 
at  home,  and  attended  to  fairs;  on  which  occasion  he  was 
liable  to  many  jokes,  his  own  size  being,  with  much  ale,  ren- 
dered little  inferior  to  that  of  the  beasts  he  sold.  He  was 
indeed  one  of  the  largest  men  you  should  see,  and  could  have 
acted  the  part  of  Sir  John  Falstaff  without  stuffing.  Add 
to  this  that  the  rotundity  of  his  belly  was  considerably  in- 
creased by  the  shortness  of  his  stature,  his  shadow  ascending 
very  near  as  far  in  height,  when  he  lay  on  his  back,  as  when 
•he  stood  on  his  legs.  His  voice  was  loud  and  hoarse,  and 
his  accent  extremely  broad.  To  complete  the  whole,  he  had 
a  stateliness  in  his  gait,  when  he  walked,  not  unlike  that  of  a 
goose,  only  he  stalked  slower. 

Mr  Trulliber,  being  informed  that  somebody  wanted  to 

141 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

speak  with  him,  immediately  slipt  off  his  apron  and  clothed 
himself  in  an  old  night-gown,  being  the  dress  in  which  he 
always  saw  his  company  at  home.  His  wife,  who  informed 
him  of  Mr  Adams's  arrival,  had  made  a  small  mistake;  for 
she  had  told  her  husband,  she  believed  there  was  a  man  come 
for  some  of  his  hogs.  This  supposition  made  Mr  Trulliber 
hasten  with  the  utmost  expedition  to  attend  his  guest.  He  no 
sooner  saw  Adams  than,  not  in  the  least  doubting  the  cause 
of  his  errand  to  be  what  his  wife  had  imagined,  he  told  him, 
he  was  come  in  very  good  time ;  that  he  expected  a  dealer 
that  very  afternoon ;  and  added,  they  were  all  pure  and  fat, 
and  upwards  of  twenty  score  a-piece.  Adams  answered,  he 
believed  he  did  not  know  him.  "  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Trulliber, 
"  I  have  seen  you  often  at  fair ;  why  we  have  dealt  before  now, 
mun,  I  warrant  you.  Yes,  yes,"  cries  he,  "  I  remember  thy 
face  very  well,  but  won't  mention  a  word  more  till  you  have 
seen  them,  though  I  have  never  sold  thee  a  flitch  of  such  bacon 
as  is  now  in  the  stye."  Upon  which  he  laid  violent  hands  on 
Adams,  and  dragged  him  into  the  hog-stye,  which  was  indeed 
but  two  steps  from  his  parlour-window.  They  were  no  sooner 
arrived  there  than  he  cried  out,  "  Do  but  handle  them ;  step  in, 
friend ;  art  welcome  to  handle  them,  whether  dost  buy  or  no." 
At  which  words,  opening  the  gate,  he  pushed  Adams  into  the 
pig-stye,  insisting  on  it  that  he  should  handle  them  before 
he  would  talk  one  word  with  him. 

Adams,  whose  natural  complacence  was  beyond  any  artifi- 
cial, was  obliged  to  comply  before  he  was  suffered  to  explain 
himself;  and,  laying  hold  on  one  of  their  tails,  the  unruly 
beast  gave  such  a  sudden  spring,  that  he  threw  poor  Adams 
all  along  in  the  mire.  Trulliber,  instead  of  assisting  him  to 
get  up,  burst  into  a  laughter,  and,  entering  the  stye,  said  to 
Adams  with  some  contempt,  "  Why,  dost  not  know  how  to 
handle  a  hog?"  and  was  going  to  lay  hold  of  one  himself, 
but  Adams,  who  thought  he  had  carried  his  complacence  far 
enough,  was  no  sooner  on  his  legs  than  he  escaped  out  of  the 
reach  of  the  animals,  and  cried  out,  "  Nil  habeo  cum  porcis: 
I  am  a  clergyman,  sir,  and  am  not  come  to  buy  hogs."  Trul- 
liber answered,  he  was  sorry  for  the  mistake,  but  that  he 
must  blame  his  wife,  adding,  she  was  a  fool,  and  always 
committed  blunders.     He  then  desired  him  to  walk  in  and 

142 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

clean  himself,  that  he  would  only  fasten  up  the  stye  and 
follow  him.  Adams  desired  leave  to  dry  his  great-coat,  wig, 
and  hat  by  the  fire,  which  Trulliber  granted.  Mrs  Trulliber 
would  have  brought  him  a  basin  of  water  to  wash  his  face, 
but  her  husband  bid  her  be  quiet  like  a  fool  as  she  was,  or 
she  would  commit  more  blunders,  and  then  directed  Adams 
to  the  pump.  While  Adams  was  thus  employed,  Trulliber, 
conceiving  no  great  respect  for  the  appearance  of  his  guest, 
fastened  the  parlour  door,  and  now  conducted  him  into  the 
kitchen,  telling  him  he  believed  a  cup  of  drink  would  do  him 
no  harm,  and  whispered  his  wife  to  draw  a  little  of  the  worst 
ale.  After  a  short  silence  Adams  said,  "  I  fancy,  sir,  you 
already  perceive  me  to  be  a  clergyman." — "  Aye,  aye,"  cries 
Trulliber,  grinning,  "  I  perceive  you  have  some  cassock ;  I 
will  not  venture  to  caale  it  a  whole  one."  Adams  answered, 
it  was  indeed  none  of  the  best,  but  he  had  the  misfortune 
to  tear  it  about  ten  years  ago  in  passing  over  a  stile.  Mrs 
Trulliber,  returning  with  the  drink,  told  her  husband  she 
fancied  the  gentleman  was  a  traveller,  and  that  he  would  be 
glad  to  eat  a  bit.  Trulliber  bid  her  hold  her  impertinent 
tongue,  and  asked  her  if  parsons  used  to  travel  without 
horses?  adding,  he  supposed  the  gentleman  had  none  by  his 
his  having  no  boots  on.  "  Yes,  sir,  yes,"  says  Adams ;  "  I 
have  a  horse,  but  I  have  left  him  behind  me." — "  I  am  glad 
to  hear  you  have  one,"  says  Trulliber ;  "  for  I  assure  you  I 
don't  love  to  see  clergymen  on  foot ;  it  is  not  seemly  nor 
suiting  the  dignity  of  the  cloth."  Here  Trulliber  made  a 
long  oration  on  the  dignity  of  the  cloth  (or  rather  gown) 
not  much  worth  relating,  till  his  wife  had  spread  the  table 
and  set  a  mess  of  porridge  on  it  for  his  breakfast.  He  then 
said  to  Adams,  "  I  don't  know,  friend,  how  you  came  to  caale 
on  me;  however,  as  you  are  here,  if  you  think  proper  to  eat 
a  morsel,  you  may."  Adams  accepted  the  invitation,  and  the 
two  parsons  sat  down  together;  Mrs  Trulliber  waiting  be- 
hind her  husband's  chair,  as  was,  it  seems,  her  custom.  Trul- 
liber ate  heartily,  but  scarce  put  anything  in  his  mouth  with- 
out finding  fault  with  his  wife's  cookery.  All  which  the  poor 
woman  bore  patiently.  Indeed,  she  was  so  absolute  an  ad- 
mirer of  her  husband's  greatness  and  importance,  of  which 
she  had  frequent  hints  from  his  own  mouth,  that  she  almost 

M3 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

carried  her  adoration  to  an  opinion  of  his  infallibility.  To 
say  the  truth,  the  parson  had  exercised  her  more  ways  than 
one ;  and  the  pious  woman  had  been  so  well  edified  by  her  hus- 
band's sermons,  that  she  had  resolved  to  receive  the  bad  things 
of  this  world  together  with  the  good.  She  had  indeed  been 
at  first  a  little  contentious ;  but  he  had  long  since  got  the 
better;  partly  by  her  love  for  this,  partly  by  her  fear  of  that, 
partly  by  her  religion,  partly  by  the  respect  he  paid  himself, 
and  partly  by  that  which  he  received  from  the  parish.  She 
had,  in  short,  absolutely  submitted,  and  now  worshipped  her 
husband,  as  Sarah  did  Abraham,  calling  him  (not  lord,  but) 
master.  Whilst  they  were  at  table  her  husband  gave  her  a 
fresh  example  of  his  greatness ;  for,  as  she  had  just  delivered 
a  cup  of  ale  to  Adams,  he  snatched  it  out  of  his  hand,  and, 
crying  out,  "  I  caal'd  vurst,"  swallowed  down  the  ale.  Adams 
denied  it;  it  was  referred  to  the  wife,  who,  though  her 
conscience  was  on  the  side  of  Adams,  durst  not  give  it  against 
her  husband ;  Upon  which  he  said,  "  No,  sir,  no ;  I  should  not 
have  been  so  rude  to  have  taken  it  from  you  if  you  had  caal'd 
vurst,  but  I'd  have  you  know  I'm  a  better  man  than  to  suffer 
the  best  he  in  the  kingdom  to  drink  before  me  in  my  own 
house  when  I  caale  vurst." 

As  soon  as  their  breakfast  was  ended,  Adams  began  in 
the  following  manner :  "  I  think,  sir,  it  is  high  time  to  inform 
you  of  the  business  of  my  embassy.  I  am  a  traveller  and 
am  passing  this  way  in  company  with  two  young  people,  a 
lad  and  a  damsel,  my  parishioners,  towards  my  own  cure; 
we  stopt  at  a  house  of  hospitality  in  the  parish,  where  they 
directed  me  to  you  as  having  the  cure." — "  Though  I  am  but 
a  curate,"  says  Trulliber,  "  I  believe  I  am  as  warm  as  the 
vicar  himself,  or  perhaps  the  rector  of  the  next  parish  too; 
I  believe  I  could  buy  them  both." — "  Sir,"  cries  Adams,  "  I, 
rejoice  thereat.  Now,  sir,  my  business  is,  that  we  are  by 
various  accidents  stript  of  our  money,  and  are  not  able  to 
pay  our  reckoning,  being  seven  shillings.  I  therefore  request 
you  to  assist  me  with  the  loan  of  those  seven  shillings,  and 
also  seven  shillings  more,  which,  peradventure,  I  shall  return 
to  you ;  but  if  not,  I  am  convinced  you  will  joyfully  embrace 
such  an  opportunity  of  laying  up  a  treasure  in  a  better  place 
than  any  this  world  affords." 

144 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

Suppose  a  stranger,  who  entered  the  chambers  of  a  lawyer, 
being  imagined  a  client,  when  the  lawyer  was  preparing  his 
palm  for  the  fee,  should  pull  out  a  writ  against  him.  Sup- 
pose an  apothecary,  at  the  door  of  a  chariot  containing  some 
great  doctor  of  eminent  skill,  should,  instead  of  directions  to 
a  patient,  present  him  with  a  potion  for  himself.  Suppose 
a  minister  should,  instead  of  a  good  round  sum,  treat  my 
lord ,  or  sir ,  or  esq. with  a  good  broom- 
stick. Suppose  a  civil  companion,  or  a  led  captain,  should, 
instead  of  virtue,  and  honour,  and  beauty,  and  parts,  and 
admiration,  thunder  vice,  and  infamy,  and  ugliness,  and  folly, 
and  contempt,  in  his  patron's  ears.  Suppose,  when  a  trades- 
man first  carries  in  his  bill,  the  man  of  fashion  should  pay 
it;  or  suppose,  if  he  did  so,  the  tradesman  should  abate  what 
he  had  overcharged,  on  the  supposition  of  waiting.  In  short, 
— suppose  what  you  will,  you  never  can  nor  will  suppose  any- 
thing equal  to  the  astonishment  which  seized  on  Trulliber, 
as  soon  as  Adams  had  ended  his  speech.  A  while  he  rolled 
his  eyes  in  silence ;  sometimes  surveying  Adams,  then  his 
wife;  then  casting  them  on  the  ground,  then  lifting  them 
up  to  heaven.  At  last  he  burst  forth  in  the  following  accents : 
"  Sir,  I  believe  I  know  where  to  lay  up  my  little  treasure  as 
well  as  another.  I  thank  G — ,  if  I  am  not  so  warm  as  some, 
I  am  content ;  that  is  a  blessing  greater  than  riches ;  and  he 
to  whom  that  is  given  need  ask  no  more.  To  be  content 
with  a  little  is  greater  than  to  possess  the  world ;  which  a 
man  may  possess  without  being  so.  Lay  up  my  treasure ! 
what  matters  where  a  man's  treasure  is  whose  heart  is  in  the 
Scriptures?  there  is  the  treasure  of  a  Christian."  At  these 
words  the  water  ran  from  Adams's  eyes ;  and,  catching  Trul- 
liber by  the  hand  in  a  rapture,  "  Brother,"  says  he,  "  heavens 
bless  the  accident  by  which  I  came  to  see  you !  I  would  have 
walked  many  a  mile  to  have  communed  with  you ;  and,  be- 
lieve me,  I  will  shortly  pay  you  a  second  visit ;  but  my  friends, 
I  fancy,  by  this  time,  wonder  at  my  stay ;  so  let  me  have  the 
money  immediately."  Trulliber  then  put  on  a  stern  look, 
and  cried  out,  "  Thou  dost  not  intend  to  rob  me  ?  "  At  which 
the  wife,  bursting  into  tears,  fell  on  her  knees  and  roared 
out,  "  O  dear  sir !  for  Heaven's  sake  don't  rob  my  master : 
we  are  but  poor  people."     "  Get  up,  for  a  fool  as  thou  art, 

10  i45 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  go  about  thy  business,"  said  Trulliber :  "  dost  think  the 
man  will  venture  his  life?  he  is  a  beggar,  and  no  robber." 
"  Very  true,  indeed,"  answered  Adams.  "  I  wish,  with  all  my 
heart,  the  tithing-man  was  here,"  cries  Trulliber:  "I  would 
have  thee  punished  as  a  vagabond  for  thy  impudence.  Four- 
teen shillings  indeed !  I  won't  give  thee  a  farthing.  I  be- 
lieve thou  art  no  more  a  clergyman  than  the  woman  there  " 
(pointing  to  his  wife)  ;  "  but  if  thou  art,  dost  deserve  to  have 
thy  gown  stript  over  thy  shoulders  for  running  about  the 
country  in  such  a  manner."  "  I  forgive  your  suspicions,"  says 
Adams ;  "  but  suppose  I  am  not  a  clergyman,  I  am  nevertheless 
thy  brother;  and  thou,  as  a  Christian,  much  more  as  a  clergy- 
man, art  obliged  to  relieve  my  distress."  "  Dost  preach  to 
me  ?  "  replied  Trulliber :  "  dost  pretend  to  instruct  me  in  my 
duty?"  "Hacks,  a  good  story,"  cries  Mrs  Trulliber,  "to 
preach  to  my  master."  "  Silence,  woman,"  cries  Trulliber. 
"  I  would  have  thee  know,  friend  "  (addressing  himself  to 
Adams),  "I  shall  not  learn  my  duty  from  such  as  thee.  I 
know  what  charity  is,  better  than  to  give  to  vagabonds." 
"  Besides,  if  we  were  inclined,  the  poor's  rate  obliges  us  to 
give  so  much  charity,"  cries  the  wife.  "  Pugh !  thou  aft  a 
fool.  Poor's  reate !  Hold  thy  nonsense,"  answered  Trulli- 
ber ;  and  then,  turning  to  Adams,  he  told  him,  "  he  would 
give  him  nothing."  "  I  am  sorry,"  answered  Adams,  "  that 
you  do  know  what  charity  is,  since  you  practise  it  no 
better :  I  must  tell  you,  if  you  trust  to  your  knowledge  for 
your  justification,  you  will  find  yourself  deceived,  though 
you  should  add  faith  to  it,  without  good  works."  "  Fellow," 
cries  Trulliber,  "dost  thou  speak  against  faith  in  my  house? 
Get  out  of  my  doors :  I  will  no  longer  remain  under  the 
same  roof  with  a  wretch  who  speaks  wantonly  of  faith  and 
the  Scriptures."  "  Name  not  the  Scriptures,"  says  Adams. 
"  How !  not  name  the  Scriptures !  Do  you  disbelieve  the 
Scriptures  ?  "  cries  Trulliber.  "  No ;  but  you  do,"  answered 
Adams,  "  if  I  may  reason  from  your  practice !  for  their  com- 
mands are  so  explicit,  and  their  rewards  and  punishments  so 
immense,  that  it  is  impossible  a  man  should  steadfastly 
believe  without  obeying.  Now,  there  is  no  command  more 
express,  no  duty  more  frequently  enjoined,  than  charity! 
Whoever,  therefore,  is  void  of  charity,  I  make  no  scruple  of 

146 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

pronouncing  that  he  is  no  Christian."  '  I  would  not  advise 
thee,"  says  Trulliber,  "  to  say  that  I  am  no  Christian :  I  won't 
take  it  of  you ;  for  I  believe  I  am  as  good  a  man  as  thyself  " 
(and  indeed,  though  he  was  now  rather  too  corpulent  for 
athletic  exercises,  he  had,  in  his  youth,  been  one  of  the  best 
boxers  and  cudgel-players  in  the  county).  His  wife,  seeing 
him  clench  his  fist,  interposed,  and  begged  him  not  to  fight, 
but  show  himself  a  true  Christian,  and  take  the  law  of  him. 
As  nothing  could  provoke  Adams  to  strike,  but  an  absolute 
assault  on  himself  or  his  friend,  he  smiled  at  the  angry  look 
and  gestures  of  Trulliber ;  and,  telling  him  he  was  sorry  to 
see  such  men  in  orders,  departed  without  further  ceremony. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AN   ADVENTURE   THE   CONSEQUENCE   OF  A   NEW    INSTANCE 
WHICH    PARSON    ADAMS    GAVE    OF    HIS    FORGETFULNESS. 

WHEN  he  came  back  to  the  inn  he  found  Joseph  and 
Fanny  sitting  together.  They  were  so  far  from  think- 
ing his  absence  long,  as  he  had  feared  they  would,  that  they 
never  once  missed  or  thought  of  him.  Indeed,  I  have  been 
often  assured  by  both,  that  they  spent  these  hours  in  a  most 
delightful  conversation ;  but,  as  I  never  could  prevail  on 
either  to  relate  it,  so  I  cannot  communicate  it  to  the  reader. 

Adams  acquainted  the  lovers  with  the  ill  success  of  his 
enterprize.  They  were  all  greatly  confounded,  none  being 
able  to  propose  any  method  of  departing,  till  Joseph  at  last 
advised  calling  in  the  hostess,  and  desiring  her  to  trust  them ; 
which  Fanny  said  she  despaired  of  her  doing,  as  she  was  one 
of  the  sourest-faced  women  she  had  ever  beheld. 

But  she  was  agreeably  disappointed ;  for  the  hostess  was 
no  sooner  asked  the  question  than  she  readily  agreed ;  and, 
with  a  curtsy  and  smile,  wished  them  a  good  journey.  How- 
ever, lest  Fanny's  skill  in  physiognomy  should  be  called  in 
question,  we  will  venture  to  assign  one  reason  which  might 
probably  incline  her  to  this  confidence  and  good-humour. 
When  Adams  said  he  was  going  to  visit  his  brother,  he  had 

147 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

unwittingly  imposed  on  Joseph  and  Fanny,  who  both  believed 
he  had  meant  his  natural  brother,  and  not  his  brother  in 
divinity,  and  had  so  informed  the  hostess,  on  her  inquiry 
after  him.  Now  Mr  Trulliber  had,  by  his  professions  of  piety, 
by  his  gravity,  austerity,  reserve,  and  the  opinion  of  his  great 
wealth,  so  great  an  authority  in  his  parish,  that  they  all  lived 
in  the  utmost  fear  and  apprehension  of  him.  It  was  there- 
fore no  wonder  that  the  hostess,  who  knew  it  was  in  his 
option  whether  she  should  ever  sell  another  mug  of  drink, 
did  not  dare  to  affront  his  supposed  brother  by  denying  him 
credit. 

They  were  now  just  on  their  departure  when  Adams  recol- 
lected he  had  left  his  great-coat  and  hat  at  Mr  Trulliber's. 
As  he  was  not  desirous  of  renewing  his  visit,  the  hostess  her- 
self, having  no  servant  at  home,  offered  to  fetch  them. 

This  was  an  unfortunate  expedient;  for  the  hostess  was 
soon  undeceived  in  the  opinion  she  had  entertained  of  Adams, 
whom  Trulliber  abused  in  the  grossest  terms,  especially  when 
he  heard  he  had  had  the  assurance  to  pretend  to  be  his  near 
relation. 

At  her  return,  therefore,  she  entirely  changed  her  note. 
She  said,  folks  might  be  ashamed  of  travelling  about,  and 
pretending  to  be  what  they  were  not.  That  taxes  were  high, 
and  for  her  part  she  was  obliged  to  pay  for  what  she  had ; 
she  could  not  therefore  possibly,  nor  would  she,  trust  any- 
body ;  no,  not  her  own  father.  That  money  was  never  scarcer, 
and  she  wanted  to  make  up  a  sum.  That  she  expected,  there- 
fore, they  should  pay  their  reckoning  before  they  left  the 
house. 

Adams  was  now  greatly  perplexed;  but,  as  he  knew  that 
he  could  easily  have  borrowed  such  a  sum  in  his  own  parish, 
and  as  he  knew  he  would  have  lent  it  himself  to  any  mortal 
in  distress,  so  he  took  fresh  courage,  and  sallied  out  all  round 
the  parish,  but  to  no  purpose ;  he  returned  as  pennyless  as 
he  went,  groaning  and  lamenting  that  it  was  possible,  in  a 
country  professing  Christianity,  for  a  wretch  to  starve  in  the 
midst  of  his  fellow-creatures  who  abounded. 

Whilst  he  was  gone,  the  hostess,  who  stayed  as  a  sort  of 
guard  with  Joseph  and  Fanny,  entertained  them  with  the 
goodness  of  parson  Trulliber.    And,  indeed,  he  had  not  only 

148 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

a  very  good  character  as  to  other  qualities  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, but  was  reputed  a  man  of  great  charity ;  for,  though  he 
never  gave  a  farthing,  he  had  always  that  word  in  his  mouth. 

Adams  was  no  sooner  returned  the  second  time  than  the 
storm  grew  exceedingly  high,  the  hostess  declaring,  among 
other  things,  that,  if  they  offered  to  stir  without  paying  her, 
she  would  soon  overtake  them  with  a  warrant. 

Plato  and  Aristotle,  or  somebody  else,  hath  said,  that  zvhen 
the  most  exquisite  cunning  fails,  chance  often  hits  the  mark, 
and  that  by  means  the  least  expected.  Virgil  expresses  this 
very  boldly : — 

Tunic,  quod  oplanti  diviun  promittere  nemo 
Auderet,  volvenda  dies,  en!  attulit  ultra. 

I  would  quote  more  great  men  if  I  could ;  but  my  memory 
not  permitting  me,  I  will  proceed  to  exemplify  these  observa- 
tions by  the  following  instance  : — 

There  chanced  (for  Adams  had  not  cunning  enough  to 
contrive  it)  to  be  at  that  time  in  the  alehouse  a  fellow  who 
had  been  formerly  a  drummer  in  an  Irish  regiment,  and  now 
travelled  the  country  as  a  pedlar.  This  man,  having  atten- 
tively listened  to  the  discourse  of  the  hostess,  at  last  took 
Adams  aside,  and  asked  him  what  the  sum  was  for  which 
they  were  detained.  As  soon  as  he  was  informed,  he  sighed, 
and  said,  he  was  sorry  it  was  so  much ;  for  that  he  had  no 
more  than  six  shillings  and  sixpence  in  his  pocket,  which  he 
would  lend  them  with  all  his  heart.  Adams  gave  a  caper, 
and  cried  out,  it  would  do ;  for  that  he  had  sixpence  himself. 
And  thus  these  poor  people,  who  could  not  engage  the  com- 
passion of  riches  and  piety,  were  at  length  delivered  out  of 
their  distress  by  the  charity  of  a  poor  pedlar. 

I  shall  refer  it  to  my  reader  to  make  what  observations  he 
pleases  on  this  incident :  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to  inform  him 
that,  after  Adams  and  his  companions  had  returned  him  a 
thousand  thanks,  and  told  him  where  he  might  call  to  be  re- 
paid, they  all  sallied  out  of  the  house  without  any  compli- 
ments from  their  hostess,  or  indeed  without  paying  her  any; 
Adams  declaring  he  would  take  particular  care  never  to  call 
there  again ;  and  she  on  her  side  assuring  them  she  wanted  no 


such  guests. 


149 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A  VERY  CURIOUS  ADVENTURE,  IN  WHICH  MR  ADAMS  GAVE  A 
MUCH  GREATER  INSTANCE  OF  THE  HONEST  SIMPLICITY  OF 
HIS  HEART  THAN  OF  HIS  EXPERIENCE  IN  THE  WAYS  OF 
THIS   WORLD. 

OUR  travellers  had  walked  about  two  miles  from  that  inn, 
which  they  had  more  reason  to  have  mistaken  for  a  cas- 
tle than  Don  Quixote  ever  had  any  of  those  in  which  he  so- 
journed, seeing  they  had  met  with  such  difficulty  in  escaping 
out  of  its  walls,  when  they  came  to  a  parish,  and  beheld  a 
sign  of  invitation  hanging  out.  A  gentleman  sat  smoking 
a  pipe  at  the  door,  of  whom  Adams  enquired  the  road,  and 
received  so  courteous  and  obliging  an  answer,  accompanied 
with  so  smiling  a  countenance,  that  the  good  parson,  whose 
heart  was  naturally  disposed  to  love  and  affection,  began  to 
ask  several  other  questions ;  particularly  the  name  of  the 
parish,  and  who  was  the  owner  of  a  large  house  whose  front 
they  then  had  in  prospect.  The  gentleman  answered  as 
obligingly  as  before ;  and  as  to  the  house,  acquainted  him  it 
was  his  own.  He  then  proceeded  in  the  following  manner : 
"  Sir,  I  presume  by  your  habit  you  are  a  clergyman ;  and  as 
you  are  travelling  on  foot  I  suppose  a  glass  of  good  beer  will 
not  be  disagreeable  to  you ;  and  I  can  recommend  my  land- 
lord's within,  as  some  of  the  best  in  all  this  country.  What 
say  you,  will  you  halt  a  little  and  let  us  take  a  pipe  together? 
there  is  no  better  tobacco  in  the  kingdom."  This  proposal 
was  not  displeasing  to  Adams,  who  had  allayed  his  thirst 
that  day  with  no  better  liquor  than  what  Mrs.  Trulliber's 
cellar  had  produced ;  and  which  was  indeed  little  superior, 
either  in  richness  or  flavour,  to  that  which  distilled  from 
those  grains  her  generous  husband  bestowed  on  his  hogs. 
Having  therefore  abundantly  thanked  the  gentleman  for  his 
kind  invitation,  and  bid  Joseph  and  Fanny  follow  him,  he 
entered  the  alehouse,  where  a  large  loaf  and  cheese  and  a 
pitcher  of  beer,  which  truly  answered  the  character  given  of 
it,  being  set  before  them,  the  three  travellers  fell  to  eating, 

15° 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

with  appetites  infinitely  more  voracious  than  arc  to  be  found 
at  the  most  exquisite  eating-houses  in  the  parish  of  St 
James's. 

The  gentleman  expressed  great  delight  in  the  hearty  and 
cheerful  behaviour  of  Adams;  and  particularly  in  the  fa- 
miliarity with  which  he  conversed  with  Joseph  and  Fanny, 
whom  he  often  called  his  children ;  a  term  he  explained  to 
mean  no  more  than  his  parishioners ;  saying,  he  looked  on 
all  those  whom  God  had  intrusted  to  his  cure  to  stand  to 
him  in  that  relation.  The  gentleman,  shaking  him  by  the 
hand,  highly  applauded  those  sentiments.  '  They  are,  in- 
deed," says  he,  "the  true  principles  of  a  Christian  divine; 
and  I  heartily  wish  they  were  universal ;  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, I  am  sorry  to  say  the  parson  of  our  parish,  instead  of 
esteeming  his  poor  parishioners  as  a  part  of  his  family,  seems 
rather  to  consider  them  as  not  of  the  same  species  with  him- 
self. He  seldom  speaks  to  any,  unless  some  few  of  the  rich- 
est of  us ;  nay,  indeed,  he  will  not  move  his  hat  to  the  others. 
I  often  laugh  when  I  behold  him  on  Sundays  strutting  along 
the  church-yard  like  a  turkey-cock  through  rows  of  his  pa- 
rishioners, who  bow  to  him  with  as  much  submission,  and  are 
as  unregarded,  as  a.  set  of  servile  courtiers  by  the  proudest 
prince  in  Christendom.  But  if  such  temporal  pride  is  ridicu- 
lous, surely  the  spiritual  is  odious  and  detestable ;  if  such  a 
puffed-up  empty  human  bladder,  strutting  in  princely  robes, 
just  moves  one's  derision,  surely  in  the  habit  of  a  priest  it 
must  raise  our  scorn." 

"  Doubtless,"  answered  Adams,  "  your  opinion  is  right ; 
but  I  hope  such  examples  are  rare.  The  clergy  whom  I  have 
the  honour  to  know  maintain  a  different  behaviour;  and  you 
will  allow  me,  sir,  that  the  readiness  which  too  many  of  the 
laity  show  to  contemn  the  order  may  be  one  reason  of  their 
avoiding  too  much  humility."  "  Very  true,  indeed,"  says  the 
gentleman ;  "  I  find,  sir,  you  are  a  man  of  excellent  sense, 
and  am  happy  in  this  opportunity  of  knowing  you ;  perhaps 
our  accidental  meeting  may  not  be  disadvantageous  to  you 
neither.  At  present  I  shall  only  say  to  you  that  the  incum- 
bent of  this  living  is  old  and  infirm,  and  that  it  is  in  my  gift. 
Doctor,  give  me  your  hand ;  and  assure  yourself  of  it  at  his 


THE   ADVENTURES   OF 

decease."  Adams  told  him  he  was  never  more  confounded  in 
his  life  than  at  his  utter  incapacity  to  make  any  return  to  such 
noble  and  unmerited  generosity.  "  A  mere  trifle,  sir,"  cries 
the  gentleman,  "  scarce  worth  your  acceptance ;  a  little  more 
than. three  hundred  a-year.  I  wish  it  was  double  the  value 
for  your  sake."  Adams  bowed,  and  cried  from  the  emotions 
of  his  gratitude ;  when  the  other  asked  him,  if  he  was  married, 
or  had  any  children,  besides  those  in  the  spiritual  sense  he  had 
mentioned.  "  Sir,"  replied  the  parson,  "  I  have  a  wife  and 
six  at  your  service."  "  That  is  unlucky,"  says  the  gentleman ; 
"  for  I  would  otherwise  have  taken  you  into  my  own  house 
as  my  chaplain;  however,  I  have  another  in  the  parish  (for 
the  parsonage-house  is  not  good  enough),  which  I  will  fur- 
nish for  you.  Pray,  does  your  wife  understand  a  dairy?" 
"  I  can't  profess  she  does,"  says  Adams.  "  I  am  sorry  for  it," 
quoth  the  gentleman ;  "  I  would  have  given  you  half-a-dozen 
cows,  and  very  good  grounds  to  have  maintained  them." 
"  Sir,"  said  Adams,  in  an  ecstasy,  "  you  are  too  liberal ;  in- 
deed you  are."  "  Not  at  all,"  cries  the  gentleman  :  "  I  esteem 
riches  only  as  they  give  me  an  opportunity  of  doing  good ;  and 
I  never  saw  one  whom  I  had  a  greater  inclination  to  serve." 
At  which  words  he  shook  him  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  told 
him  he  had  sufficient  room  in  his  house  to  entertain  him  and 
his  friends.  Adams  begged  he  might  give  him  no  such 
trouble ;  that  they  could  be  very  well  accommodated  in  the 
house  where  they  were ;  forgetting  they  had  not  a  sixpenny 
piece  among  them.  The  gentleman  would  not  be  denied  ;  and, 
informing  himself  how  far  they  were  travelling,  he  said  it 
was  too  long  a  journey  to  take  on  foot,  and  begged  that  they 
would  favour  him  by  suffering  him  to  lend  them  a  servant 
and  horses ;  adding,  withal,  that,  if  they  would  do  him  the 
pleasure  of  their  company  only  two  days,  he  would  furnish 
them  with  his  coach  and  six.  Adams,  turning  to  Joseph, 
said,  "  How  lucky  is  this  gentleman's  goodness  to  you,  who  I 
am  afraid  would  be  scarce  able  to  hold  out  on  your  lame  leg ! ': 
and  then,  addressing  the  person  who  made  him  these  liberal 
promises,  after  much  bowing,  he  cried  out,  "  Blessed  be  the 
hour  which  first  introduced  me  to  a  man  of  your  charity !  you 
are  indeed  a  Christian  of  the  true  primitive  kind,  and  an  hon- 

i52 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

our  to  the  country  wherein  you  live.  I  would  willingly  have 
taken  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land  to  have  beheld  you ;  for 
the  advantages  which  we  draw  from  your  goodness  give  me 
little  pleasure,  in  comparison  of  what  I  enjoy  for  your  own 
sake  when  I  consider  the  treasures  you  are  by  these  means 
laying  up  for  yourself  in  a  country  that  passeth  not  away. 
We  will  therefore,  most  generous  sir,  accept  your  goodness, 
as  well  the  entertainment  you  have  so  kindly  offered  us  at 
your  house  this  evening,  as  the  accommodation  of  your  horses 
to-morrow  morning."  He  then  began  to  search  for  his  hat, 
as  did  Joseph  for  his ;  and  both  they  and  Fanny  were  in  order 
of  departure,  when  the  gentleman,  stopping  short,  and  seem- 
ing to  meditate  by  himself  for  the  space  of  about  a  minute, 
exclaimed  thus :  "  Sure  never  any  thing  was  so  unlucky ;  I 
had  forgot  that  my  housekeeper  was  gone  abroad,  and  hath 
locked  up  all  my  rooms ;  indeed,  I  would  break  them  open  for 
you,  but  shall  not  be  able  to  furnish  you  with  a  bed ;  for  she 
has  likewise  put  away  all  my  linen.  I  am  glad  it  entered  into 
my  head  before  I  had  given  you  the  trouble  of  walking  there ; 
besides,  I  believe  you  will  find  better  accommodations  here 
than  you  expected. — Landlord,  you  can  provide  good  beds 
for  these  people,  can't  you  ?  "  "  Yes,  and  please  your  wor- 
ship," cries  the  host,  "  and  such  as  no  lord  or  justice  of  the 
peace  in  the  kingdom  need  be  ashamed  to  lie  in."  '  I  am 
heartily  sorry,"  says  the  gentleman,  "  for  this  disappoint- 
ment. I  am  resolved  I  will  never  suffer  her  to  carry  away  the 
keys  again."  '  Pray,  sir,  let  it  not  make  you  uneasy,"  cries 
Adams ;  "  we  shall  do  very  well  here ;  and  the  loan  of  your 
horses  is  a  favour  we  shall  be  incapable  of  making  any  re- 
turn to."  "Aye!"  said  the  squire,  "the  horses  shall  attend 
you  here  at  what  hour  in  the  morning  you  please ;  "  and  now, 
after  many  civilities  too  tedious  to  enumerate,  many  squeezes 
by  the  hand,  with  most  affectionate  looks  and  smiles  at  each 
other,  and  after  appointing  the  horses  at  seven  the  next  morn- 
ing, the  gentleman  took  his  leave  of  them,  and  departed  to  his 
own  house.  Adams  and  his  companions  returned  to  the  table, 
where  the  parson  smoked  another  pipe,  and  then  they  all  re- 
tired to  rest. 

Mr  Adams  rose  very  early,  and  called  Joseph  out  of  his 

153 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

bed,  between  whom  a  very  fierce  dispute  ensued,  whether 
Fanny  should  ride  behind  Joseph,  or  behind  the  gentleman's 
servant;  Joseph  insisting  on  it  that  he  was  perfectly  recov- 
ered, and  was  as  capable  of  taking  care  of  Fanny  as  any  other 
person  could  be.  But  Adams  would  not  agree  to  it,  and  de- 
clared he  would  not  trust  her  behind  him;  for  that  he  was 
weaker  than  he  imagined  himself  to  be. 

This  dispute  continued  a  long  time,  and  had  begun  to  be 
very  hot,  when  a  servant  arrived  from  their  good  friend,  to 
acquaint  them  that  he  was  unfortunately  prevented  from  lend- 
ing them  any  horses;  for  that  his  groom  had,  unknown  to 
him,  put  his  whole  stable  under  a  course  of  physic. 

This  advice  presently  struck  the  two  disputants  dumb : 
Adams  cried  out,  "  Was  ever  anything  so  unlucky  as  this 
poor  gentleman?  I  protest  I  am  more  sorry  on  his  account 
than  my  own.  You  see,  Joseph,  how  this  good-natured  man  is 
treated  by  his  servants;  one  locks  up  his  linen,  another 
physics  his  horses,  and  I  suppose,  by  his  being  at  this  house 
last  night,  the  butler  had  locked  up  his  cellar.  Bless  us !  how 
good-nature  is  used  in  this  world !  I  protest  I  am  more  con- 
cerned on  his  account  than  my  own."  ;'  So  am  not  I,"  cries 
Joseph ;  "  not  that  I  am  much  troubled  about  walking  on 
foot:  all  my  concern  is,  how  we  shall  get  out  of  the  house, 
unless  God  sends  another  pedlar  to  redeem  us.  But  certainly 
this  gentleman  has  such  an  affection  for  you,  that  he  would 
lend  you  a  larger  sum  than  we  owe  here,  which  is  not  above 
four  or  five  shillings."  "  Very  true,  child,"  answered  Adams ; 
"  I  will  write  a  letter  to  him,  and  will  even  venture  to  solicit 
him  for  three  half-crowns;  there  will  be  no  harm  in  having 
two  or  three  shillings  in  our  pockets ;  as  we  have  full  forty 
miles  to  travel,  we  may  possibly  have  occasion  for  them." 

Fanny  being  now  risen,  Joseph  paid  her  a  visit,  and  left 
Adams  to  write  his  letter,  which  having  finished,  he  de- 
spatched a  boy  with  it  to  the  gentleman,  and  then  seated  him- 
self by  the  door,  lighted  his  pipe,  and  betook  himself  to  medi- 
tation. 

The  boy  staying  longer  than  seemed  to  be  necessary,  Jo- 
seph, who  with  Fanny  was  now  returned  to  the  parson,  ex- 
pressed some  apprehensions  that  the  gentleman's  steward  had 

154 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

locked  up  his  purse  too.  To  which  Adams  answered,  it 
might  very  possibly  be,  and  he  should  wonder  at  no  liberties 
which  the  devil  might  put  into  the  head  of  a  wicked  servant 
to  take  with  so  worthy  a  master ;  but  added,  that,  as  the  sum 
was  so  small,  so  noble  a  gentleman  would  be  easily  able  to 
procure  it  in  the  parish,  though  he  had  it  not  in  his  own 
pocket.  "  Indeed,"  says  he,  "  if  it  was  four  or  five  guineas, 
or  any  such  large  quantity  of  money,  it  might  be  a  different 
matter." 

They  were  now  sat  down  to  breakfast  over  some  toast  and 
ale,  when  the  boy  returned  and  informed  them  that  the  gen- 
tleman was  not  at  home.  "  Very  well !  "  cries  Adams  ;  "  but 
why,  child,  did  you  not  stay  till  his  return?  Go  back  again, 
my  good  boy,  and  wait  for  his  coming  home ;  he  cannot  be 
gone  far,  as  his  horses  are  all  sick ;  and  besides,  he  had  no 
intention  to  go  abroad,  for  he  invited  us  to  spend  this  day 
and  to-morrow  at  his  house.  Therefore  go  back,  child,  and 
tarry  till  his  return  home."  The  messenger  departed,  and 
was  back  again  with  great  expedition,  bringing  an  account 
that  the  gentleman  was  gone  a  long  journey,  and  would  not 
be  at  home  again  this  month.  At  these  words  Adams  seemed 
greatly  confounded,  saying,  "  This  must  be  a  sudden  accident, 
as  the  sickness  or  death  of  a  relation  or  some  such  unforeseen 
misfortune ;  "  and  then,  turning  to  Joseph,  cried,  "  I  wish  you 
had  reminded  me  to  have  borrowed  this  money  last  night." 
Joseph,  smiling,  answered,  he  was  very  much  deceived  if  the 
gentleman  would  not  have  found  some  excuse  to  avoid  lend- 
ing it. — "  I  own,"  says  he,  "  I  was  never  much  pleased  with 
his  professing  so  much  kindness  for  you  at  first  sight ;  for  I 
have  heard  the  gentlemen  of  our  cloth  in  London  tell  many 
such  stories  of  their  masters.  But  when  the  boy  brought  the 
message  back  of  his  not  being  at  home,  I  presently  knew 
what  would  follow ;  for,  whenever  a  man  of  fashion  doth  not 
care  to  fulfil  his  promises,  the  custom  is  to  order  his  servants 
that  he  will  never  be  at  home  to  the  person  so  promised.  In 
London  they  call  it  denying  him.  I  have  myself  denied  Sir 
Thomas  Booby  above  a  hundred  times,  and  when  the  man 
hath  danced  attendance  for  about  a  month,  or  sometimes 
longer,  he  is  acquainted  in  the  end  that  the  gentleman  is  gone 

J55 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

out  of  town  and  could  do  nothing  in  the  business." — "  Good 
Lord!  "  says  Adams,  "  what  wickedness  is  therein  the  Chris- 
tian world !  I  profess  almost  equal  to  what  I  have  read  of  the 
heathens.  But  surely,  Joseph,  your  suspicions  of  this  gentle- 
man must  be  unjust,  for  what  a  silly  fellow  must  he  be  who 
would  do  the  devil's  work  for  nothing!  and  canst  thou  tell 
me  any  interest  he  could  possibly  propose  to  himself  by  de- 
ceiving us  in  his  professions?  " — "  It  is  not  for  me,"  answered 
Joseph,  "  to  give  reasons  for  what  men  do  to  a  gentleman  of 
your  learning." — "  You  say  right,"  quoth  Adams ;  "  know- 
ledge of  men  is  only  to  be  learnt  from  books ;  Plato  and 
Seneca  for  that ;  and  those  are  authors,  I  am  afraid,  child, 
you  never  read." — "  Not  I,  sir,  truly,"  answered  Joseph ;  "  all 
I  know  is,  it  is  a  maxim  among  the  gentlemen  of  our  cloth, 
that  those  masters  who  promise  the  most  perform  the  least; 
and  I  have  often  heard  them  say  they  have  found  the  largest 
vails  in  those  families  where  they  were  not  promised  any. 
But,  sir,  instead  of  considering  any  farther  these  matters,  it 
would  be  our  wisest  way  to  contrive  some  method  of  getting 
out  of  this  house;  for  the  generous  gentleman,  instead  of 
doing  us  any  service,  hath  left  us  the  whole  reckoning  to  pay." 
Adams  was  going  to  answer,  when  their  host  came  in,  and, 
with  a  kind  of  jeering  smile,  said,  "  Well,  masters !  the  squire 
hath  not  sent  his  horses  for  you  yet.  Laud  help  me!  how 
easily  some  folks  make  promises !  " — "  How  !  "  says  Adams ; 
"  have  you  ever  known  him  do  anything  of  this  kind  be- 
fore?"— "Aye!  marry  have  I,"  answered  the  host:  "it  is 
no  business  of  mine,  you  know,  sir,  to  say  anything  to  a  gen- 
tleman to  his  face ;  but  now  he  is  not  here,  I  will  assure  you, 
he  hath  not  his  fellow  within  the  three  next  market-towns. 
I  own  I  could  not  help  laughing  when  I  heard  him  offer  you 
the  living,  for  thereby  hangs  a  good  jest.  I  thought  he  would 
have  offered  you  my  house  next,  for  one  is  no  more  his  to 
dispose  of  than  the  other."  At  these  words  Adams,  blessing 
himself,  declared,  he  had  never  read  of  such  a  monster.  "  But 
what  vexes  me  most,"  says  he,  "  is,  that  he  hath  decoyed  us 
into  running  up  a  long  debt  with  you,  which  we  are  not  able 
to  pay,  for  we  have  no  money  about  us,  and,  what  is  worse, 
live  at  such  a  distance,  that  if  you  should  trust  us,  I  am  afraid 

156 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

you  would  lose  your  money  for  want  of  our  finding  any  con- 
veniency  of  sending  it." — "  Trust  you,  master !  "  says  the 
host,  "  that  I  will  with  all  my  heart.  I  honour  the  clergy  too 
much  to  deny  trusting  one  of  them  for  such  a  trifle;  besides, 
I  like  your  fear  of  never  paying  me.  I  have  lost  many  a  debt 
in  my  life-time,  but  was  promised  to  be  paid  them  all  in  a 
very  short  time.  I  will  score  this  reckoning  for  the  novelty 
of  it.  It  is  the  first,  I  do  assure  you,  of  its  kind.  But  what 
say  you,  master,  shall  we  have  t'other  pot  before  we  part? 
It  will  waste  but  a  little  chalk  more,  and  if  you  never  pay  me 
a  shilling  the  loss  will  not  ruin  me."  Adams  liked  the  invi- 
tation very  well,  especially  as  it  was  delivered  with  so  hearty 
an  accent.  He  shook  his  host  by  the  hand,  and  thanking  him, 
said,  he  would  tarry  another  pot  rather  for  the  pleasure  of 
such  worthy  company  than  for  the  liquor;  adding,  he  was 
glad  to  find  some  Christians  left  in  the  kingdom,  for  that  he 
almost  began  to  suspect  that  he  was  sojourning  in  a  country 
inhabited  only  by  Jews  and  Turks. 

The  kind  host  produced  the  liquor,  and  Joseph  with  Fanny 
retired  into  the  garden,  where,  while  they  solaced  themselves 
with  amorous  discourse,  Adams  sat  down  with  his  host ;  and, 
both  filling  their  glasses,  and  lighting  their  pipes,  they  began 
that  dialogue  which  the  reader  will  find  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  MR  ABRAHAM  ADAMS  AND  HIS  HOST, 
WHICH,  BY  THE  DISAGREEMENT  IN  THEIR  OPINIONS, 
SEEMED  TO  THREATEN  AN  UNLUCKY  CATASTROPHE,  HAD  IT 
NOT  BEEN  TIMELY  PREVENTED  BY  THE  RETURN  OF  THE 
LOVERS. 

<QIR,"  said  the  host,  "  I  assure  you  you  are  not  the  first  to 
^  whom  our  squire  hath  promised  more  than  he  hath  per- 
formed. He  is  so  famous  for  this  practice,  that  his  word 
will  not  be  taken  for  much  by  those  who  know  him.  I  re- 
member a  young  fellow  whom  he  promised  his  parents  to 

157 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

make  an  exciseman.  The  poor  people,  who  could  ill  afford 
it,  bred  their  son  to  writing  and  accounts,  and  other  learning, 
to  qualify  him  for  the  place ;  and  the  boy  held  up  his  head 
above  his  condition  with  these  hopes ;  nor  would  he  go  to 
plough,  nor  to  any  other  kind  of  work,  and  went  constantly 
drest  as  fine  as  could  be,  with  two  clean  Holland  shirts 
a-week,  and  this  for  several  years ;  till  at  last  he  followed  the 
squire  up  to  London,  thinking  there  to  mind  him  of  his  prom- 
ises ;  but  he  could  never  get  sight  of  him.  So  that,  being  out 
of  money  and  business,  he  fell  into  evil  company  and 
wicked  courses ;  and  in  the  end  came  to  a  sentence  of  trans- 
portation, the  news  of  which  broke  the  mother's  heart. — I 
will  tell  you  another  true  story  of  him :  There  was  a  neigh- 
bour of  mine,  a  farmer,  who  had  two  sons  whom  he  bred  up 
to  the  business.  Pretty  lads  they  were.  Nothing  would 
serve  the  squire  but  that  the  youngest  must  be  made  a 
parson.  Upon  which  he  persuaded  the  father  to  send  him 
to  school,  promising  that  he  would  afterwards  maintain  him 
at  the  university,  and,  when  he  was  of  a  proper  age,  give 
him  a  living.  But  after  the  lad  had  been  seven  years  at 
school,  and  his  father  brought  him  to  the  squire,  with  a  letter 
from  his  master  that  he  was  fit  for  the  university ;  the  squire, 
instead  of  minding  his  promise,  or  sending  him  thither  at 
his  expense,  only  told  his  father  that  the  young  man 
was  a  fine  scholar,  and  it  was  pity  he  could  not  afford  to  keep 
him  at  Oxford  for  four  or  five  years  more,  by  which  time, 
if  he  could  get  him  a  curacy,  he  might  have  him  ordained. 
The  farmer  said,  he  was  not  a  man  sufficient  to  do  any  such 
thing. — "  Why,  then,"  answered  the  squire,  "  I  am  very  sorry 
you  have  given  him  so  much  learning;  for,  if  he  cannot  get 
his  living  by  that,  it  will  rather  spoil  him  for  anything  else ; 
and  your  other  son,  who  can  hardly  write  his  name,  will  do 
more  at  ploughing  and  sowing,  and  is  in  a  better  condition, 
than  he."  And  indeed  so  it  proved ;  for  the  poor  lad,  not  find- 
ing friends  to  maintain  him  in  his  learning,  as  he  had  ex- 
pected, and  being  unwilling  to  work,  fell  to  drinking,  though 
he  was  a  very  sober  lad  before ;  and  in  a  short  time,  partly* 
with  grief,  and  partly  with  good  liquor,  fell  into  a  consump- 
tion, and  died. — Nay,  I  can  tell  you  more  still :  there  was  an- 

*5* 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

other,  a  young  woman,  and  the  handsomest  in  all  this  neigh- 
bourhood, whom  he  enticed  up  to  London,  promising  to 
make  her  a  gentlewoman  to  one  of  your  women  of  quality ; 
but  instead  of  keeping  his  word,  we  have  since  heard,  after 
having  a  child  by  her  himself,  she  became  a  common  whore ; 
then  kept  a  coffee-house  in  Covent  Garden ;  and  a  little  after 
died  of  the  French  distemper  in  a  gaol. — I  could  tell  you 
many  more  stories ;  but  how  do  you  imagine  he  served  me 
myself?  You  must  know,  sir,  I  was  bred  a  sea- faring  man, 
and  have  been  many  voyages;  till  at  last  I  came  to  be  master 
of  a  ship  myself,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  of  making  a  fortune, 
when  I  was  attacked  by  one  of  those  cursed  guarda-costas 
who  took  our  ships  before  the  beginning  of  the  war;  and 
after  a  fight,  wherein  I  lost  the  greater  part  of  my  crew,  my 
rigging  being  all  demolished,  and  two  shots  received  between 
wind  and  water,  I  was  forced  to  strike.  The  villains  carried 
off  my  ship,  a  brigantine  of  150  tons, — a  pretty  creature  she 
was, — and  put  me,  a  man,  and  a  boy,  into  a  little  bad  pink, 
in  which,  with  much  ado,  we  at  last  made  Falmouth ;  though 
I  believe  the  Spaniards  did  not  imagine  she  could  possibly 
live  a  day  at  sea.  Upon  my  return  hither,  where  my  wife, 
who  was  of  this  country,  then  lived,  the  squire  told  me  he 
was  so  pleased  with  the  defence  I  had  made  against  the 
enemy,  that  he  did  not  fear  getting  me  promoted  to  a  lieu- 
tenancy of  a  man-of-war,  if  I  would  accept  of  it ;  which  I 
thankfully  assured  him  I  would.  Well,  sir,  two  or  three  years 
passed,  during  which  I  had  many  repeated  promises,  not  only 
from  the  squire,  but  (as  he  told  me)  from  the  lords  of  the 
admiralty.  He  never  returned  from  London  but  I  was  as- 
sured I  might  be  satisfied  now,  for  I  was  certain  of  the  first 
vacancy ;  and,  what  surprizes  me  still,  when  I  reflect  on  it, 
these  assurances  were  given  me  with  no  less  confidence,  after 
so  many  disappointments,  than  at  first.  At  last,  sir,  growing 
weary,  and  somewhat  suspicious,  after  so  much  delay,  I  wrote 
to  a  friend  in  London,  who  I  knew  had  some  acquaintance  at 
the  best  house  in  the  admiralty,  and  desired  him  to  back  the 
squire's  interest ;  for  indeed  I  feared  he  had  solicited  the  af- 
fair with  more  coldness  than  he  pretended.  And  what  an- 
swer do  you  think  my  friend  sent  me?     Truly,  sir,  he  ac- 

159 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

quainted  me  that  the  squire  had  never  mentioned  my  name 
at  the  admiralty  in  his  life;  and,  unless  I  had  much  faith- 
fuller  interest,  advised  me  to  give  over  my  pretensions ;  which 
I  immediately  did,  and,  with  the  concurrence  of  my  wife, 
resolved  to  set  up  an  alehouse,  where  you  are  heartily  wel- 
come; and  so  my  service  to  you;  and  may  the  squire,  and 
all  such  sneaking  rascals,  go  to  the  devil  together." — "  O 
fie !  "  says  Adams,  "  O  fie !  He  is  indeed  a  wicked  man  ;  but 
God  will,  I  hope,  turn  his  heart  to  repentance.  Nay,  if  he 
could  but  once  see  the  meanness  of  this  detestable  vice ;  would 
he  but  once  reflect  that  he  is  one  of  the  most  scandalous  as 
well  as  pernicious  liars ;  sure  he  must  despise  himself  to  so 
intolerable  a  degree,  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to 
continue  a  moment  in  such  a  course.  And  to  confess  the 
truth,  notwithstanding  the  baseness  of  this  character,  which 
he  hath  too  well  deserved,  he  hath  in  his  countenance  suffi- 
cient symptoms  of  that  bona  indoles,  that  sweetness  of  dispo- 
sition, which  furnishes  out  a  good  Christian." — "  Ah,  master! 
master !  "  says  the  host,  "  if  you  had  travelled  as  far  as  I  have, 
and  conversed  with  the  many  nations  where  I  have  traded, 
you  would  not  give  any  credit  to  a  man's  countenance. 
Symptoms  in  his  countenance,  quotha !  I  would  look  there, 
perhaps,  to  see  whether  a  man  had  the  smallpox,  but  for 
nothing  else."  He  spoke  this  with  so  little  regard  to  the 
parson's  observation,  that  it  a  good  deal  nettled  him;  and, 
taking  the  pipe  hastily  from  his  mouth,  he  thus  answered : 
'  Master  of  mine,  perhaps  I  have  travelled  a  great  deal  far- 
ther than  you  without  the  assistance  of  a  ship.  Do  you  im- 
agine sailing  by  different  cities  or  countries  is  travelling? 
No. 

'  Caelum  non  animum  mutant  qui  trans  mare  currunt. 

I  can  go  farther  in  an  afternoon  than  you  in  a  twelvemonth. 
What,  I  suppose  you  have  seen  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  and 
perhaps  the  walls  of  Carthage.  Nay,  you  may  have  heard 
Scylla,  and  seen  Charybdis ;  you  may  have  entered  the  closet 
where  Archimedes  was  found  at  the  taking  of  Syracuse.  I 
suppose  you  have  sailed  among  the  Cyclades,  and  passed  the 
famous  straits  which  take  their  name  from  the  unfortunate 

1 60 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

Helle,  whose  fate  is  sweetly  described  by  Apollonius  Rhodius ; 
you  have  passed  the  very  spot,  I  conceive,  where  Daedalus 
fell  into  that  sea,  his  waxen  wings  being  melted  by  the  sun ; 
you  have  traversed  the  Euxine  sea,  I  make  no  doubt ;  nay, 
you  may  have  been  on  the  banks  of  the  Caspian,  and  called 
at  Colchis,  to  see  if  there  is  ever  another  golden  fleece." 
;<  Not  I,  truly,  master,"  answered  the  host :  "  I  never  touched 
at  any  of  these  places." — "  But  I  have  been  at  all  these,"  re- 
plied Adams.  '  Then,  I  suppose,"  cries  the  host,  "  you  have 
been  at  the  East  Indies ;  for  there  are  no  such,  I  will  be  sworn, 
either  in  the  West  or  the  Levant." — "  Pray  where's  the  Le- 
vant ?  "  quoth  Adams ;  "  that  should  be  in  the  East  Indies 
by  right."  "  Oho !  you  are  a  pretty  traveller,"  cries  the  host, 
"  and  not  know  the  Levant!  My  service  to  you,  master;  you 
must  not  talk  of  these  things  with  me !  you  must  not  tip  us 
the  traveller ;  it  won't  go  here."  "  Since  thou  art  so  dull  to 
misunderstand  me  still,"  quoth  Adams,  "  I  will  inform  thee ; 
the  travelling  I  mean  is  in  books,  the  only  way  of  travelling 
by  which  any  knowledge  is  to  be  acquired.  From  them  I 
learn  what  I  asserted  just  now,  that  nature  generally  imprints 
such  a  portraiture  of  the  mind  in  the  countenance,  that  a 
skilful  physiognomist  will  rarely  be  deceived.  I  presume  you 
have  never  read  the  story  of  Socrates  to  this  purpose,  and 
therefore  I  will  tell  it  you.  A  certain  physiognomist  asserted 
of  Socrates,  that  he  plainly  discovered  by  his  features  that  he 
was  a  rogue  in  his  nature.  A  character  so  contrary  to  the 
tenor  of  all  this  great  man's  actions,  and  the  generally  re- 
ceived opinion  concerning  him,  incensed  the  boys  of  Athens 
so  that  they  threw  stones  at  the  physiognomist,  and  would 
have  demolished  him  for  his  ignorance,  had  not  Socrates 
himself  prevented  them  by  confessing  the  truth  of  his  ob- 
servations, and  acknowledging  that,  though  he  corrected  his 
disposition  by  philosophy,  he  was  indeed  naturally  as  inclined 
to  vice  as  had  been  predicted  of  him.  Now,  pray  resolve  me, 
— How  should  a  man  know  this  story  if  he  had  not  read  it  ?  " 
"  Well,  master,"  said  the  host,  "  and  what  signifies  it  whether 
a  man  knows  it  or  no?  He  who  goes  abroad,  as  I  have  done, 
will  always  have  opportunities  enough  of  knowing  the  world 
without  troubling  his  head  with  Socrates,  or  any  such  fel- 
11  161 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

lows."  "  Friend,"  cries  Adams,  "  if  a  man  should  sail  round 
the  world,  and  anchor  in  every  harbour  of  it,  without  learn- 
ing, he  would  return  home  as  ignorant  as  he  went  out." 
"  Lord  help  you!  "  answered  the  host;  "  there  was  my  boat- 
swain, poor  fellow !  he  could  scarce  either  write  or  read,  and 
yet  he  would  navigate  a  ship  with  any  master  of  a  man  of 
war ;  and  a  very  pretty  knowledge  of  trade  he  had  too." 
"  Trade,"  answered  Adams,  "  as  Aristotle  proves  in  his  first 
chapter  of  Politics,  is  below  a  philosopher,  and  unnatural  as  it 
is  managed  now."  The  host  looked  stedfastly  at  Adams,  and 
after  a  minute's  silence  asked  him,  if  he  was  one  of  the  writers 
of  the  Gazetteers?  "for  I  have  heard,"  says  he,  "they  are 
writ  by  parsons."  "  Gazetteers !  "  answered  Adams  ;  "  What 
is  that  ?  "  "  It  is  a  dirty  newspaper,"  replied  the  host,  "  which 
hath  been  given  away  all  over  the  nation  for  these  many 
years,  to  abuse  trade  and  honest  men,  which  I  would  not 
suffer  to  lie  on  my  table,  though  it  hath  been  offered  me  for 
nothing."  "  Not  I  truly,"  said  Adams ;  "  I  never  write  any- 
thing but  sermons ;  and  I  assure  you  I  am  no  enemy  to  trade, 
whilst  it  is  consistent  with  honesty ;  nay,  I  have  always  looked 
on  the  tradesman  as  a  very  valuable  member  of  society,  and, 
perhaps,  inferior  to  none  but  the  man  of  learning."  "  No,  I 
believe  he  is  not,  nor  to  him  neither,"  answered  the  host. 
"  Of  what  use  would  learning  be  in  a  country  without  trade? 
What  would  all  you  parsons  do  to  clothe  your  backs  and 
feed  your  bellies?  Who  fetches  you  your  silks,  and  your 
linens,  and  your  wines,  and  all  the  other  necessaries  of  life? 
I  speak  chiefly  with  regard  to  the  sailors."  "  You  should  say 
the  extravagancies  of  life,"  replied  the  parson ;  "  but  admit 
they  were  the  necessaries,  there  is  something  more  necessary 
than  life  itself,  which  is  provided  by  learning;  I  mean  the 
learning  of  the  clergy.  Who  clothes  you  with  piety,  meek- 
ness, humility,  charity,  patience,  and  all  the  other  Christian 
virtues?  Who  feeds  your  souls  with  the  milk  of  brotherly 
love,  and  diets  them  with  all  the  dainty  food  of  holiness, 
which  at  once  cleanses  them  of  all  impure  carnal  affections, 
and  fattens  them  with  the  truly  rich  spirit  of  grace?  Who 
doth  this  ?  "  "  Ay,  who,  indeed  ?  "  cries  the  host ;  "  for  I  do 
not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  any  such  clothing  or  such 

162 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

feeding.  And  so,  in  the  mean  time,  master,  my  service  to 
you."  Adams  was  going  to  answer  with  some  severity,  when 
Joseph  and  Fanny  returned  and  pressed  his  departure  so 
eagerly  that  he  would  not  refuse  them ;  and  so,  grasping  his 
crabstick,  he  took  leave  of  his  host  (neither  of  them  being  so 
well  pleased  with  each  other  as  they  had  been  at  their  first 
sitting  down  together),  and  with  Joseph  and  Fanny,  who 
both  expressed  much  impatience,  departed,  and  now  all  to- 
gether renewed  their  journey. 


163 


BOOK   III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MATTER  PREFATORY  IN   PRAISE  OF  BIOGRAPHY. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  preference  which  may  be 
vulgarly  given  to  the  authority  of  those  romance-wri- 
ters who  entitle  their  books  the  History  of  England,  the  His- 
tory of  France,  of  Spain,  &c,  it  is  most  certain  that  truth  is 
to  be  found  only  in  the  works  of  those  who  celebrate  the  lives 
of  great  men,  and  are  commonly  called  biographers,  as  the 
others  should  indeed  be  termed  topographers,  or  chorogra- 
phers ;  words  which  might  well  mark  the  distinction  between 
them ;  it  being  the  business  of  the  latter  chiefly  to  describe 
countries  and  cities,  which,  with  the  assistance  of  maps,  they 
do  pretty  justly,  and  may  be  depended  upon ;  but  as  to  the  ac- 
tions and  characters  of  men,  their  writings  are  not  quite  so  au- 
thentic, of  which  there  needs  no  other  proof  than  those  eternal 
contradictions  occurring  between  two  topographers  who  un- 
dertake the  history  of  the  same  country :  for  instance,  between 
my  Lord  Clarendon  and  Mr  Whitlock,  between  Mr  Echard 
and  Rapin,  and  many  others ;  where,  facts  being  set  forth  in 
a  different  light,  every  reader  believes  as  he  pleases ;  and, 
indeed,  the  more  judicious  and  suspicious  very  justly  esteem 
the  whole  as  no  other  than  a  romance,  in  which  the  writer 
hath  indulged  a  happy  and  fertile  invention.  But  though 
these  widely  differ  in  the  narrative  of  facts;  some  ascribing 
victory  to  the  one,  and  others  to  the  other  party ;  some  repre- 
senting the  same  man  as  a  rogue,  to  whom  others  give  a  great 
and  honest  character;  yet  all  agree  in  the  scene  where  the 
fact  is  supposed  to  have  happened,  and  where  the  person, 
who  is  both  a  rogue  and  an  honest  man,  lived.  Now  with 
us  biographers  the  case  is  different ;  the  facts  we  deliver  may 

164 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

be  relied  on,  though  we  often  mistake  the  age  and  country 
wherein  they  happened :  for,  though  it  may  be  worth  the 
examination  of  critics,  whether  the  shepherd  Chrysostom, 
who,  as  Cervantes  informs  us,  died  for  love  of  the  fair  Mar- 
cella,  who  hated  him,  was  ever  in  Spain,  will  any  one  doubt 
but  that  such  a  silly  fellow  hath  really  existed?  Is  there  in 
the  world  such  a  sceptic  as  to  disbelieve  the  madness  of  Car- 
denio,  the  perfidy  of  Ferdinand,  the  impertinent  curiosity  of 
Anselmo,  the  weakness  of  Camilla,  the  irresolute  friendship 
of  Lothario?  though  perhaps,  as  to  the  time  and  place  where 
those  several  persons  lived,  the  good  historian  may  be  deplor- 
ably deficient.  But  the  most  known  instance  of  this  kind  is 
in  the  true  history  of  Gil  Bias,  where  the  inimitable  biographer 
hath  made  a  notorious  blunder  in  the  country  of  Dr  San- 
grado,  who  used  his  patients  as  a  vintner  doth  his  wine-vessels, 
by  letting  out  their  blood,  and  filling  them  up  with  water. 
Doth  not  every  one,  who  is  the  least  versed  in  physical  his- 
tory, know  that  Spain  was  not  the  country  in  which  this  doc- 
tor lived  ?  The  same  writer  hath  likewise  erred  in  the  country 
of  his  archbishop,  as  well  as  that  of  those  great  personages 
whose  understandings  were  too  sublime  to  taste  anything  but 
tragedy,  and  in  many  others.  The  same  mistakes  may  like- 
wise be  observed  in  Scarron,  the  Arabian  Nights,  the  History 
of  Marianne  and  le  Paisan  Parvenu,  and  perhaps  some  few 
other  writers  of  this  class,  whom  I  have  not  read,  or  do  not 
at  present  recollect;  for  I  would  by  no  means  be  thought  to 
comprehend  those  persons  of  surprizing  genius,  the  authors 
of  immense  romances,  or  the  modern  novel  and  Atalantis 
writers ;  who,  without  any  assistance  from  nature  or  history, 
record  persons  who  never  were,  or  will  be,  and  facts  which 
never  did,  nor  possibly  can,  happen ;  whose  heroes  are  of  their 
own  creation,  and  their  brains  the  chaos  whence  all  the  mate- 
rials are  selected.  Not  that  such  writers  deserve  no  honour ;  so 
far  otherwise,  that  perhaps  they  merit  the  highest;  for  what 
can  be  nobler  than  to  be  as  an  example  of  the  wonderful  ex- 
tent of  human  genius  ?  One  may  apply  to  them  what  Balzac 
says  of  Aristotle,  that  they  are  a  second  nature  (for  they 
have  no  communication  with  the  first;  by  which,  authors  of 
an  inferior  class,  who  cannot  stand  alone,  are  obliged  to  sup- 
port themselves  as  with  crutches)  ;  but  these  of  whom  I  am 

165 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

now  speaking  seem  to  be  possessed  of  those  stilts,  which  the 
excellent  Voltaire  tells  us,  in  his  letters,  "  carry  the  genius 
far  off,  but  without  any  regular  pace."  Indeed,  far  out  of 
the  sight  of  the  reader, 

Beyond  the  realms  of  Chaos  and  old  Night. 

But  to  return  to  the  former  class,  who  are  contented  to 
copy  nature,  instead  of  forming  originals  from  the  confused 
heap  of  matter  in  their  own  brains ;  is  not  such  a  book  as 
that  which  records  the  achievements  of  the  renowned  Don 
Quixote  more  worthy  the  name  of  a  history  than  even  Mari- 
ana's :  for,  whereas  the  latter  is  confined  to  a  particular  period 
of  time,  and  to  a  particular  nation,  the  former  is  the  history 
of  the  world  in  general,  at  least  that  part  which  is  polished 
by  laws,  arts,  and  sciences ;  and  of  that  from  the  time  it  was 
first  polished  to  this  day;  nay,  and  forwards  as  long  as  it 
shall  so  remain? 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  apply  these  observations  to  the  work 
before  us ;  for  indeed  I  have  set  them  down  principally  to 
obviate  some  constructions  which  the  good-nature  of  mankind, 
who  are  always  forward  to  see  their  friends'  virtues  recorded, 
may  put  to  particular  parts.  I  question  not  but  several  of 
my  readers  will  know  the  lawyer  in  the  stage-coach  the  mo- 
ment they  hear  his  voice.  It  is  likewise  odds  but  the  wit  and 
the  prude  meet  with  some  of  their  acquaintance,  as  well  as 
all  the  rest  of  my  characters.  To  prevent  therefore  any  such 
malicious  applications,  I  declare  here,  once  for  all,  I  describe 
not  men,  but  manners ;  not  an  individual,  but  a  species.  Per- 
haps it  will  be  answered,  are  not  the  characters  then  taken 
from  life?  To  which  I  answer  in  the  affirmative;  nay,  I 
believe  I  might  aver  that  I  have  writ  little  more  than  I  have 
seen.  The  lawyer  is  not  only  alive,  but  hath  been  so  these  four 
thousand  years ;  and  I  hope  God  will  indulge  his  life  as  many 
yet  to  come.  He  hath  not  indeed  confined  himself  to  one  pro- 
fession, one  religion,  or  one  country;  but  when  the  first  mean 
selfish  creature  appeared  on  the  human  stage,  who  made  self 
the  centre  of  the  whole  creation,  would  give  himself  no  pain, 
incur  no  danger,  advance  no  money,  to  assist  or  preserve  his 
fellow-creatures ;  then  was  our  lawyer  born ;  and,  whilst  such 

166 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

a  person  as  I  have  described  exists  on  earth,  so  long  shall 
he  remain  upon  it.  It  is  therefore  doing  him  little  honour 
to  imagine  he  endeavours  to  mimic  some  little  obscure  fel- 
low, because  he  happens  to  resemble  him  in  one  particular 
feature,  or  perhaps  in  his  profession ;  whereas  his  appearance 
in  the  world  is  calculated  for  much  more  general  and  noble 
purposes ;  not  to  expose  one  pitiful  wretch  to  the  small  and 
contemptible  circle  of  his  acquaintance ;  but  to  hold  the  glass  * 
to  thousands  in  their  closets,  that  they  may  contemplate  their 
deformity,  and  endeavour  to  reduce  it,  and  thus  by  suffering 
private  mortification  may  avoid  public  shame.  This  places 
the  boundary  between,  and  distinguishes  the  satirist  from  the 
libeller :  for  the  former  privately  corrects  the  fault  for  the 
benefit  of  the  person,  like  a  parent ;  the  latter  publicly  ex- 
poses the  person  himself,  as  an  example  to  others,  like  an 
executioner. 

There  are  besides  little  circumstances  to  be  considered ;  as 
the  drapery  of  a  picture,  which  though  fashion  varies  at  dif- 
ferent times,  the  resemblance  of  the  countenance  is  not  by 
those  means  diminished.  Thus  I  believe  we  may  venture  to 
say  Mrs  Tow-wouse  is  coeval  with  our  lawyer :  and,  though 
perhaps,  during  the  changes  which  so  long  an  existence  must 
have  passed  through,  she  may  in  her  turn  have  stood  behind 
the  bar  at  an  inn,  I  will  not  scruple  to  affirm  she  hath  likewise 
in  the  revolution  of  ages  sat  on  a  throne.  In  short,  where 
extreme  turbulency  of  temper,  avarice,  and  an  insensibility 
of  human  misery,  with  a  degree  of  hypocrisy,  have  united 
in  a  female  composition,  Mrs  Tow-wouse  was  that  woman; 
and  where  a  good  inclination,  eclipsed  by  a  poverty  of  spirit 
and  understanding,  hath  glimmered  forth  in  a  man,  that  man 
hath  been  no  other  than  her  sneaking  husband. 

I  shall  detain  my  reader  no  longer  than  to  give  him  one 
caution  more  of  an  opposite  kind :  for,  as  in  most  of  our 
particular  characters  we  mean  not  to  lash  individuals,  but  all 
of  the  like  sort,  so,  in  our  general  descriptions,  we  mean  not 
universals,  but  would  be  understood  with  many  exceptions : 
for  instance,  in  our  description  of  high  people,  we  cannot  be 
intended  to  include  such  as,  whilst  they  are  an  honour  to 
their  high  rank,  by  a  well-guided  condescension  make  their 
superiority  as  easy  as  possible  to  those  whom  fortune  chiefly 

167 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

hath  placed  below  them.  Of  this  number  I  could  name  a 
peer  no  less  elevated  by  nature  than  by  fortune ;  who,  whilst 
he  wears  the  noblest  ensigns  of  honour  on  his  person,  bears 
the  truest  stamp  of  dignity  on  his  mind,  adorned  with  great- 
ness, enriched  with  knowledge,  and  embellished  with  genius. 
I  have  seen  this  man  relieve  with  generosity,  while  he  hath 
conversed  with  freedom,  and  be  to  the  same  person  a  patron 
and  a  companion.  I  could  name  a  commoner,  raised  higher 
above  the  multitude  by  superior  talents  than  is  in  the  power 
of  his  prince  to  exalt  him ;  whose  behaviour  to  those  he  hath 
obliged  is  more  amiable  than  the  obligation  itself;  and  who 
is  so  great  a  master  of  affability,  that,  if  he  could  divest  him- 
self of  an  inherent  greatness  in  his  manner,  would  often  make 
the  lowest  of  his  acquaintance  forget  who  was  the  master 
of  that  palace  in  which  they  are  so  courteously  entertained. 
These  are  pictures  which  must  be,  I  believe,  known:  I  de- 
clare they  are  taken  from  the  life,  and  not  intended  to  exceed 
it.  By  those  high  people,  therefore,  whom  I  have  described, 
I  mean  a  set  of  wretches,  who,  while  they  are  a  disgrace 
to  their  ancestors,  whose  honours  and  fortunes  they  inherit 
(or  perhaps  a  greater  to  their  mother,  for  such  degeneracy 
is  scarce  credible),  have  the  insolence  to  treat  those  with  dis- 
regard who  are  at  least  equal  to  the  founders  of  their  own 
splendour.  It  is,  I  fancy,  impossible  to  conceive  a  spectacle 
more  worthy  of  our  indignation,  than  that  of  a  fellow,  who  is 
not  only  a  blot  in  the  escutcheon  of  a  great  family,  but  a 
scandal  to  the  human  species,  maintaining  a  supercilious  be- 
haviour to  men  who  are  an  honour  to  their  nature  and  a  dis- 
grace to  their  fortune. 

And  now,  reader,  taking  these  hints  along  with  you,  you 
may,  if  you  please,  proceed  to  the  sequel  of  this  our  true 
history. 


r68 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 


CHAPTER   II. 

A    NIGHT-SCENE,    WHEREIN    SEVERAL   WONDERFUL   ADVENTURES 
BEFEL    ADAMS    AND    HIS    FELLOW-TRAVELLERS. 

IT  was  so  late  when  our  travellers  left  the  inn  or  alehouse 
(for  it  might  be  called  either),  that  they  had  not  travelled 
many  miles  before  night  overtook  them,  or  met  them,  which 
you  please.  The  reader  must  excuse  me  if  I  am  not  par- 
ticular as  to  the  way  they  took ;  for,  as  we  are  now  drawing 
near  the  seat  of  the  Boobies,  and  as  that  is  a  ticklish  name, 
which  malicious  persons  may  apply,  according  to  their  evil 
inclinations,  to  several  worthy  country  squires,  a  race  of  men 
whom  we  look  upon  as  entirely  inoffensive,  and  for  whom  we 
have  an  adequate  regard,  we  shall  lend  no  assistance  to  any 
such  malicious  purposes. 

Darkness  had  now  overspread  the  hemisphere,  when  Fanny 
whispered  Joseph  that  she  begged  to  rest  herself  a  little ;  for 
that  she  was  so  tired  she  could  walk  no  farther.  Joseph  im- 
mediately prevailed  with  parson  Adams,  who  was  as  brisk 
as  a  bee,  to  stop.  He  had  no  sooner  seated  himself  than  he 
lamented  the  loss  of  his  dear  vEschylus ;  but  was  a  little  com- 
forted when  reminded  that,  if  he  had  it  in  his  possession,  he 
could  not  see  to  read. 

The  sky  was  so  clouded,  that  not  a  star  appeared.  It  was 
indeed,  according  to  Milton,  darkness  visible.  This  was  a 
circumstance,  however,  very  favourable  to  Joseph ;  for  Fanny, 
not  suspicious  of  being  overseen  by  Adams,  gave  a  loose  to 
her  passion  which  she  had  never  done  before,  and,  reclining 
her  head  on  his  bosom,  threw  her  arm  carelessly  round  him, 
and  suffered  him  to  lay  his  cheek  close  to  hers.  All  this  in- 
fused such  happiness  into  Joseph,  that  he  would  not  have 
changed  his  turf  for  the  finest  down  in  the  finest  palace  in  the 
universe. 

Adams  sat  at  some  distance  from  the  lovers,  and,  being 
unwilling  to  disturb  them,  applied  himself  to  meditation;  in 
which  he  had  not  spent  much  time  before  he  discovered  a 
light  at  some  distance  that  seemed  approaching  towards  him. 
He  immediately  hailed  it;  but,  to  his  sorrow  and  surprize,  it 

169 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

stopped  for  a  moment,  and  then  disappeared.  He  then  called 
to  Joseph,  asking  him,  if  he  had  not  seen  the  light?  Joseph 
answered,  he  had. — "  And  did  you  not  mark  how  it  vanished?" 
returned  he :  "  though  I  am  not  afraid  of  ghosts,  I  do  not 
absolutely  disbelieve  them." 

He  then  entered  into  a  meditation  on  those  unsubstantial 
beings ;  which  was  soon  interrupted  by  several  voices,  which 
he  thought  almost  at  his  elbow,  though  in  fact  they  were  not 
so  extremely  near.  However,  he  could  distinctly  hear  them 
agree  on  the  murder  of  any  one  they  met;  and  a  little  after 
heard  one  of  them  say,  he  had  killed  a  dozen  since  that  day 
fortnight. 

Adams  now  fell  on  his  knees,  and  committed  himself  to  the 
care  of  Providence;  and  poor  Fanny,  who  likewise  heard 
those  terrible  words,  embraced  Joseph  so  closely,  that  had 
not  he,  whose  ears  were  also  open,  been  apprehensive  on  her 
account,  he  would  have  thought  no  danger  which  threatened 
only  himself  too  dear  a  price  for  such  embraces. 

Joseph  now  drew  forth  his  penknife,  and  Adams,  having 
finished  his  ejaculations,  grasped  his  crab-stick,  his  only  wea- 
pon, and,  coming  up  to  Joseph,  would  have  had  him  quit 
Fanny,  and  place  her  in  the  rear ;  but  his  advice  was  fruitless ; 
she  clung  closer  to  him,  not  at  all  regarding  the  presence  of 
Adams,  and  in  a  soothing  voice  declared,  she  would  die  in 
his  arms.  Joseph,  clasping  her  with  inexpressible  eagerness, 
whispered  her,  that  he  preferred  death  in  hers  to  life  out  of 
them.  Adams,  brandishing  his  crabstick,  said,  he  despised 
death  as  much  as  any  man,  and  then  repeated  aloud, 

Est  hie,  est  animus  lucis  contemptor  et  ilium, 
Qui  vita  bene  credat  emi  quo  tendis,  honorem. 

Upon  this  the  voices  ceased  for  a  moment,  and  then  one 
of  them  called  out,  "  D — n  you,  who  is  there  ?  "  To  which 
Adams  was  prudent  enough  to  make  no  reply ;  and  of  a  sud- 
den he  observed  half-a-dozen  lights,  which  seemed  to  rise 
all  at  once  from  the  ground  and  advance  briskly  towards  him. 
This  he  immediately  concluded  to  be  an  apparition ;  and  now, 
beginning  to  conceive  that  the  voices  were  of  the  same  kind, 
he  called  out,  "  In  the  name  of  the  Lord,  what  wouldst  thou 

170 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

have  ?  "  He  had  no  sooner  spoke  than  he  heard  one  of  the 
voices  cry  out,  "  D — n  them,  here  they  come ;  "  and  soon  after 
heard  several  hearty  blows,  as  if  a  number  of  men  had  been 
engaged  at  quarterstaff.  He  was  just  advancing  towards  the 
place  of  combat,  when  Joseph,  catching  him  by  the  skirts, 
begged  him  that  they  might  take  the  opportunity  of  the  dark 
to  convey  away  Fanny  from  the  danger  which  threatened  her. 
He  presently  complied,  and,  Joseph  lifting  up  Fanny,  they  all 
three  made  the  best  of  their  way ;  and  without  looking  behind 
them  or  being  overtaken,  they  had  travelled  full  two  miles, 
poor  Fanny  not  once  complaining  of  being  tired,  when  they 
saw  afar  off  several  lights  scattered  at  a  small  distance  from 
each  other,  and  at  the  same  time  found  themselves  on  the 
descent  of  a  very  steep  hill.  Adams's  foot  slipping,  he  in- 
stantly disappeared,  which  greatly  frightened  both  Joseph 
and  Fanny:  indeed,  if  the  light  had  permitted  them  to  see  it, 
they  would  scarce  have  refrained  laughing  to  see  the  parson 
rolling  down  the  hill ;  which  he  did  from  top  to  bottom,  with- 
out receiving  any  harm.  He  then  hollowed  as  loud  as  he 
could,  to  inform  them  of  his  safety,  and  relieve  them  from 
the  fears  which  they  had  conceived  for  him.  Joseph  and 
Fanny  halted  some  time,  considering  what  to  do ;  at  last  they 
advanced  a  few  paces,  where  the  declivity  seemed  least  steep ; 
and  then  Joseph,  taking  his  Fanny  in  his  arms,  walked  firmly 
down  the  hill,  without  making  a  false  step,  and  at  length 
landed  her  at  the  bottom,  where  Adams  soon  came  to  them. 

Learn  hence,  my  fair  countrywomen,  to  consider  your  owri^v 
weakness,  and  the  many  occasions  on  which  the  strength  of 
a  man  may  be  useful  to  you;  and,  duly  weighing  this,  take 
care  that  you  match  not  yourselves  with  the  spindle-shanked  v 
beaux  and  pctit-mditres  of  the  age,  who,  instead  of  being  able, 
like  Joseph  Andrews,  to  carry  you  in  lusty  arms  through  the 
rugged  ways  and  downhill  steeps  of  life,  will  rather  want  to 
support  their  feeble  limbs  with  your  strength  and  assistance. 

Our  travellers  now  moved  forwards  where  the  nearest  light 
presented  itself;  and,  having  crossed  a  common  field,  they 
came  to  a  meadow,  where  they  seemed  to  be  at  a  very  little 
distance  from  the  light,  when,  to  their  grief,  they  arrived  at 
the  banks  of  a  river.  Adams  here  made  a  full  stop,  and  de- 
clared he  could  swim,  but  doubted  how  it  was  possible  to  get 

171 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

Fanny  over :  to  which  Joseph  answered,  if  they  walked  along 
its  banks,  they  might  be  certain  of  soon  finding  a  bridge, 
especially  as  by  the  number  of  lights  they  might  be  assured 
a  parish  was  near.  "  Odso,  that's  true  indeed,"  said  Adams ; 
"  I  did  not  think  of  that." 

Accordingly,  Joseph's  advice  being  taken,  they  passed  over 
two  meadows,  and  came  to  a  little  orchard,  which  led  them 
to  a  house.  Fanny  begged  of  Joseph  to  knock  at  the  door, 
assuring  him  she  was  so  weary  that  she  could  hardly  stand  on 
her  feet.  Adams,  who  was  foremost,  performed  this  cere- 
mony; and,  the  door  being  immediately  opened,  a  plain  kind 
of  man  appeared  at  it :  Adams  acquainted  him  that  they  had 
a  young  woman  with  them  who  was  so  tired  with  her  journey 
that  he  should  be  much  obliged  to  him  if  he  would  surfer  her 
to  come  in  and  rest  herself.  The  man,  who  saw  Fanny  by 
the  light  of  the  candle  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  perceiving 
her  innocent  and  modest  look,  and  having  no  apprehensions 
from  the  civil  behaviour  of  Adams,  presently  answered,  that 
the  young  woman  was  very  welcome  to  rest  herself  in  his 
house,  and  so  were  her  company.  He  then  ushered  them  into 
a  very'  decent  room,  where  his  wife  was  sitting  at  a  table : 
she  immediately  rose  up,  and  assisted  them  in  setting  forth 
chairs,  and  desired  them  to  sit  down;  which  they  had  no 
sooner  done  than  the  man  of  the  house  asked  them  if  they 
would  have  anything  to  refresh  themselves  with  ?  Adams 
thanked  him,  and  answered  he  should  be  obliged  to  him  for  a 
cup  of  his  ale,  which  was  likewise  chosen  by  Joseph  and 
Fanny.  Whilst  he  was  gone  to  fill  a  very  large  jug  with 
this  liquor,  his  wife  told  Fanny  she  seemed  greatly  fatigued, 
and  desired  her  to  take  something  stronger  than  ale ;  but  she 
refused  with  many  thanks,  saying  it  was  true  she  was  very 
much  tired,  but  a  little  rest  she  hoped  would  restore  her. 
As  soon  as  the  company  were  all  seated,  Mr  Adams,  who  had 
filled  himself  with  ale,  and  by  public  permission  had  lighted 
his  pipe,  turned  to  the  master  of  the  house,  asking  him,  if 
evil  spirits  did  not  use  to  walk  in  that  neighbourhood?  To 
which  receiving  no  answer,  he  began  to  inform  him  of  the 
adventure  which  they  had  met  with  on  the  downs ;  nor  had 
he  proceeded  far  in  the  story  when  somebody  knocked  very 
hard  at  the  door.    The  company  expressed  some  amazement, 

172 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

and  Fanny  and  the  good  woman  turned  pale:  her  husband 
went  forth,  and  whilst  he  was  absent,  which  was  some  time, 
they  all  remained  silent,  looking  at  one  another,  and  heard 
several  voices  discoursing  pretty  loudly.  Adams  was  fully 
persuaded  that  spirits  were  abroad,  and  began  to  meditate 
some  exorcisms ;  Joseph  a  little  inclined  to  the  same  opinion ; 
Fanny  was  more  afraid  of  men;  and  the  good  woman  herself 
began  to  suspect  her  guests,  and  imagined  those  without  were 
rogues  belonging  to  their  gang.  At  length  the  master  of  the 
house  returned,  and,  laughing,  told  Adams  he  had  discovered 
his  apparition  ;  that  the  murderers  were  sheep-stealers,  and  the 
twelve  persons  murdered  were  no  other  than  twelve  sheep ; 
adding,  that  the  shepherds  had  got  the  better  of  them,  had 
secured  two,  and  were  proceeding  with  them  to  a  justice  of 
peace.  This  account  greatly  relieved  the  fears  of  the  whole 
company ;  but  Adams  muttered  to  himself,  he  was  convinced 
of  the  truth  of  apparitions  for  all  that. 

They  now  sat  cheerfully  round  the  fire,  till  the  master  of 
the  house,  having  surveyed  his  guests,  and  conceiving  that 
the  cassock,  which,  having  fallen  down,  appeared  under 
Adams's  great-coat,  and  the  shabby  livery  on  Joseph  Andrews, 
did  not  well  suit  with  the  familiarity  between  them,  began 
to  entertain  some  suspicions  not  much  to  their  advantage : 
addressing  himself  therefore  to  Adams,  he  said,  he  perceived 
he  was  a  clergyman  by  his  dress,  and  supposed  that  honest 
man  was  his  footman.  "  Sir,"  answered  Adams,  "  I  am  a 
clergyman  at  your  service ;  but  as  to  that  young  man,  whom 
you  have  rightly  termed  honest,  he  is  at  present  in  nobody's 
service;  he  never  lived  in  any  other  family  than  that 
of  Lady  Booby,  from  whence  he  was  discharged,  I  assure  you, 
for  no  crime."  Joseph  said,  he  did  not  wonder  the  gentle- 
man was  surprized  to  see  one  of  Mr  Adams's  character  con- 
descend to  so  much  goodness  with  a  poor  man.  "  Child,"  said 
Adams,  "  I  should  be  ashamed  of  my  cloth  if  I  thought  a  poor 
man,  who  is  honest,  below  my  notice  or  my  familiarity.  I 
know  not  how  those  who  think  otherwise  can  profess  them- 
selves followers  and  servants  of  Him  who  made  no  distinction, 
unless,  peradventure,  by  preferring  the  poor  to  the  rich. — Sir," 
said  he,  addressing  himself  to  the  gentleman,  "  these  two 
poor  young  people  are  my  parisioners,  and  I  look  on  them 

173 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  love  them  as  my  children.  There  is  something  singular 
enough  in  their  history,  but  I  have  not  now  time  to  recount 
it."  The  master  of  the  house,  notwithstanding  the  simplicity 
which  discovered  itself  in  Adams,  knew  too  much  of  the  world 
to  give  a  hasty  belief  to  professions.  He  was  not  yet  quite 
certain  that  Adams  had  any  more  of  the  clergyman  in  him 
than  his  cassock.  To  try  him  therefore  further,  he  asked  him, 
if  Mr  Pope  had  lately  published  anything  new?  Adams 
answered,  he  had  heard  great  commendations  of  that  poet, 
but  that  he  had  never  read  nor  knew  any  of  his  works.  "  Ho ! 
ho !  "  says  the  gentleman  to  himself,  "  have  I  caught  you  ? 
What !  "  said  he,  "  have  you  never  seen  his  Homer  ?  "  Adams 
answered,  he  had  never  read  any  translation  of  the  classics. 
"  Why,  truly,"  replied  the  gentleman,  "  there  is  a  dignity  in 
the  Greek  language  which  I  think  no  modern  tongue  can 
reach." — "Do  you  understand  Greek,  sir?"  said  Adams 
hastily.  "A  little,  sir,"  answered  the  gentleman.  "Do  you 
know,  sir,"  cried  Adams,  "  where  I  can  buy  an  iEschylus  ?  an 
unlucky  misfortune  lately  happened  to  mine."  ^schylus  was 
beyond  the  gentleman,  though  he  knew  him  very  well  by 
name;  he  therefore,  returning  back  to  Homer,  asked  Adams, 
what  part  of  the  Iliad  he  thought  most  excellent?  Adams 
returned,  his  question  would  be  properer,  What  kind  of  beauty 
was  the  chief  in  poetry  ?  for  that  Homer  was  equally  excellent 
in  them  all.  "  And,  indeed,"  continued  he,  "  what  Cicero 
says  of  a  complete  orator  may  well  be  applied  to  a  great  poet : 
He  ought  to  comprehend  all  perfections.  Homer  did  this 
in  the  most  excellent  degree ;  it  is  not  without  reason,  there- 
fore, that  the  philosopher,  in  the  twenty-second  chapter  of  his 
Poetics,  mentions  him  by  no  other  appellation  than  that  of 
the  Poet.  He  was  the  father  of  the  drama  as  well  as  the 
epic;  not  of  tragedy  only,  but  of  comedy  also;  for  his  Mar- 
gites,  which  is  deplorably  lost,  bore,  says  Aristotle,  the  same 
analogy  to  comedy  as  his  Odyssey  and  Iliad  to  tragedy.  To 
him,  therefore,  we  owe  Aristophanes  as  well  as  Euripides, 
Sophocles,  and  my  poor  ^Eschylus.  But  if  you  please  we 
will  confine  ourselves  (at  least  for  the  present)  to  the  Iliad, 
his  noblest  work ;  though  neither  Aristotle  nor  Horace  give 
it  the  preference,  as  I  remember,  to  the  Odyssey.  First,  then, 
as  to  his  subject,  can  anything  be  more  simple,  and  at  the 

i74 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

same  time  more  noble?    He  is  rightly  praised  by  the  first  of 
those  judicious  critics  for  not  choosing  the  whole  war,  which, 
though  he  says  it  hath  a  complete  beginning  and  end,  would 
have  been  too  great  for  the  understanding  to  comprehend  at 
one  view.     I  have,  therefore,  often  wondered  why  so  correct 
a  writer  as  Horace  should,  in  his  epistle  to  Lollius,  call  him 
the  Trojani  Belli  Scriptorem.     Secondly,  his  action,  termed 
by  Aristotle,  Pragmaton  Systasis ;  is  it  possible  for  the  mind 
of  man  to  conceive  an  idea  of  such  perfect  unity,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  replete  with  greatness?    And  here  I  must  ob- 
serve, what  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  noted  by  any, 
the  Harmotton,  that  agreement  of  his  action  to  his  subject : 
for,  as  the  subject  is  anger,  how  agreeable  is  his  action,  which 
is  war;  from  which  every  incident  arises  and  to  which  every 
episode   immediately   relates.      Thirdly,   his   manners,   which 
Aristotle  places  second  in  his  description  of  the  several  parts 
of  tragedy,  and  which  he  says  are  included  in  the  action; 
I  am  at  a  loss  whether  I  should  rather  admire  the  exactness 
of  his  judgment  in  the  nice  distinction  or  the  immensity  of  his 
imagination    in    their    variety.      For,    as    to    the    former    of 
these,  how  accurately  is  the   sedate,   injured   resentment  of 
Achilles,    distinguished    from   the   hot,    insulting   passion    of 
Agamemnon !     How  widely  doth  the  brutal  courage  of  Ajax 
differ  from  the  amiable  bravery  of  Diomedes ;  and  the  wis- 
dom of  Nestor,  which  is  the  result  of  long  reflection  and  ex- 
perience, from  the  cunning  of  Ulysses,  the  effect  of  art  and 
subtlety  only !     If  we  consider  their  variety,  we  may  cry  out, 
with  Aristotle  in  his  24th  chapter,  that  no  part  of  this  divine 
poem  is  destitute  of  manners.     Indeed,  I  might  affirm  that 
there  is  scarce  a  character  in  human  nature  untouched  in  some 
part  or  other.     And,  as  there  is  no  passion  which  he  is  not 
able  to  describe,  so  is  there  none  in  his  reader  which  he  can- 
not raise.     If  he  hath  any  superior  excellence  to  the  rest,  I 
have  been  inclined  to  fancy  it  is  in  the  pathetic.     I  am  sure 
I  never  read  with  dry  eyes  the  two  episodes  where  Androm- 
ache is  introduced  in  the  former  lamenting  the  danger,  and 
in  the  latter  the  death,  of  Hector.     The  images  are  so  ex- 
tremely tender  in  these,  that  I  am  convinced  the  poet  had 
the  worthiest  and  best  heart  imaginable.     Nor  can  I  help  ob- 
serving how  Sophocles  falls  short  of  the  beauties  of  the  origi- 
ns 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

nal,  in  that  imitation  of  the  dissuasive  speech  of  Andromache 
which  he  hath  put  into  the  mouth  of  Tecmessa.  And  yet 
Sophocles  was  the  greatest  genius  who  ever  wrote  tragedy; 
nor  have  any  of  his  successors  in  that  art,  that  is  to  say,  neither 
Euripides  nor  Seneca  the  tragedian,  been  able  to  come  near 
him.  As  to  his  sentiments  and  diction,  I  need  say  nothing; 
the  former  are  particularly  remarkable  for  the  utmost  per- 
fection on  that  head,  namely,  propriety;  and  as  to  the  latter, 
Aristotle,  whom  doubtless  you  have  read  over  and  over,  is 
very  diffuse.  I  shall  mention  but  one  thing  more,  which  that 
great  critic  in  his  division  of  tragedy  calls  Opsis,  or  the 
scenery;  and  which  is  as  proper  to  the  epic  as  to  the  drama, 
with  this  difference,  that  in  the  former  it  falls  to  the  share  of 
the  poet,  and  in  the  latter  to  that  of  the  painter.  But  did  ever 
painter  imagine  a  scene  like  that  in  the  13th  and  14th  Iliads? 
where  the  reader  sees  at  one  view  the  prospect  of  Troy,  with 
the  army  drawn  up  before  it;  the  Grecian  army,  camp,  and 
fleet ;  Jupiter  sitting  on  Mount  Ida,  with  his  head  wrapt  in  a 
cloud,  and  a  thunderbolt  in  his  hand,  looking  towards  Thrace ; 
Neptune  driving  through  the  sea,  which  divides  on  each  side 
to  permit  his  passage,  and  then  seating  himself  on  Mount 
Samos ;  the  heavens  opened,  and  the  deities  all  seated  on 
their  thrones.  This  is  sublime !  This  is  poetry !  "  Adams 
then  rapt  out  a  hundred  Greek  verses,  and  with  such  a  voice, 
emphasis,  and  action,  that  he  almost  frightened  the  women ; 
and  as  for  the  gentleman,  he  was  so  far  from  entertaining  any 
further  suspicion  of  Adams,  that  he  now  doubted  whether 
he  had  not  a  bishop  in  his  house.  He  ran  into  the  most  ex- 
travagant encomiums  on  his  learning ;  and  the  goodness  of  his 
heart  began  to  dilate  to  all  the  strangers.  He  said  he  had 
great  compassion  for  the  poor  young  woman,  who  looked 
pale  and  faint  with  her  journey ;  and  in  truth  he  conceived  a 
much  higher  opinion  of  her  quality  than  it  deserved.  He  said 
he  was  sorry  he  could  not  accommodate  them  all :  but  if  they 
were  contented  with  his  fire-side,  he  would  set  up  with  the 
men ;  and.  the  young  woman  might,  if  she  pleased,  partake  his 
wife's  bed,  which  he  advised  her  to;  for  that  they  must  walk- 
up  vards  of  a  mile  to  any  house  of  entertainment,  and 
that  not  very  good  neither.  Adams,  who  liked  his  seat,  his 
ale,  his  tobacco,  and  his  company,  persuaded  Fanny  to  accept 

176 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

this  kind  proposal,  in  which  solicitation  he  was  seconded  by 
Joseph.  Nor  was  she  very  difficultly  prevailed  on ;  for  she 
had  slept  little  the  last  night  and  not  at  all  the  preceding; 
so  that  love  itself  was  scarce  able  to  keep  her  eyes  open  any 
longer.  The  offer  therefore  being  kindly  accepted,  the  good 
woman  produced  everything  eatable  in  her  house  on  the  table, 
and  the  guests,  being  heartily  invited,  as  heartily  regaled  them- 
selves, especially  parson  Adams.  As  to  the  other  two,  they 
were  examples  of  the  truth  of  that  physical  observation,  that 
love,  like  other  sweet  things,  is  no  whetter  of  the  stomach. 

Supper  was  no  sooner  ended,  than  Fanny  at  her  own  re- 
quest retired,  and  the  good  woman  bore  her  company.  The 
man  of  the  house,  Adams,  and  Joseph,  who  would  modestly 
have  withdrawn,  had  not  the  gentleman  insisted  on  the  con- 
trary, drew  round  the  fire-side,  where  Adams  (to  use  his  own 
words)  replenished  his  pipe,  and  the  gentleman  produced  a 
bottle  of  excellent  beer,  being  the  best  liquor  in  his  house. 

The  modest  behaviour  of  Joseph,  with  the  gracefulness  of 
his  person,  the  character  which  Adams  gave  of  him,  and  the 
friendship  he  seemed  to  entertain  for  him,  began  to  work  on 
the  gentleman's  affections,  and  raised  in  him  a  curiosity  to 
know  the  singularity  which  Adams  had  mentioned  in  his  his- 
tory. This  curiosity  Adams  was  no  sooner  informed  of  than, 
with  Joseph's  consent,  he  agreed  to  gratify  it;  and  accordingly 
related  all  he  knew,  with  as  much  tenderness  as  was  possible 
for  the  character  of  Lady  Booby;  and  concluded  with  the 
long,  faithful,  and  mutual  passion  between  him  and  Fanny, 
not  concealing  the  meanness  of  her  birth  and  education. 
These  latter  circumstances  entirely  cured  a  jealousy  which 
had  lately  risen  in  the  gentleman's  mind,  that  Fanny  was  the 
daughter  of  some  person  of  fashion,  and  that  Joseph  had 
run  away  with  her,  and  Adams  was  concerned  in  the  plot. 
He  was  now  enamoured  of  his  guests,  drank  their  healths 
with  great  cheerfulness,  and  returned  many  thanks  to  Adams, 
who  had  spent  much  breath,  for  he  was  a  circumstantial 
teller  of  a  story. 

Adams  told  him  it  was  now  in  his  power  to  return  that 
favour;  for  his  extraordinary  goodness,  as  well  as  that  fund 
of  literature  he  was  master  of,*  which  he  did  not  expect  to 

*  The  author  hath  by  some  been  represented  to  have  made  a  blunder 
12  I?7 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

find  under  such  a  roof,  had  raised  in  him  more  curiosity  than 
he  had  ever  known.  "  Therefore,"  said  he,  "  if  it  be  not  too 
troublesome,  sir,  your  history  if  you  please." 

The  gentleman  answered,  he  could  not  refuse  him  what 
he  had  so  much  right  to  insist  on;  and  after  some  of  the 
common  apologies,  which  are  the  usual  preface  to  a  story,  he 
thus  began. 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN    WHICH  THE  GENTLEMAN   RELATES  THE   HISTORY  OF 

HIS  LIFE. 

SIR,  I  am  descended  of  a  good  family,  and  was  born  a 
gentleman.  My  education  was  liberal,  and  at  a  public 
school,  in  which  I  proceeded  so  far  as  to  become  master  of 
the  Latin,  and  to  be  tolerably  versed  in  the  Greek  language. 
My  father  died  when  I  was  sixteen,  and  left  me  master  of 
myself.  He  bequeathed  me  a  moderate  fortune,  which  he 
intended  I  should  not  receive  till  I  attained  the  age  of  twenty- 
five  :  for  he  constantly  asserted  that  was  full  early  enough 
to  give  up  any  man  entirely  to  the  guidance  of  his  own  dis- 
cretion. However,  as  this  intention  was  so  obscurely  worded 
in  his  will  that  the  lawyers  advised  me  to  contest  the  point 
with  my  trustees,  I  own  I  paid  so  little  regard  to  the  incli- 
nations of  my  dead  father,  which  were  sufficiently  certain  to 

here:  for  Adams  had  indeed  shown  some  learning  (say  they),  perhaps 
all  the  author  had ;  but  the  gentleman  hath  shown  none,  unless  his  ap- 
probation of  Mr.  Adams  be  such :  but  surely  it  would  be  preposterous 
in  him  to  call  it  so.  I  have,  however,  notwithstanding  this  criticism, 
which  I  am  told  came  from  the  mouth  of  a  great  orator  in  a  public 
coffee-house,  left  this  blunder  as  it  stood  in  the  first  edition.  I  will 
not  have  the  vanity  to  apply  to  anything  in  this  work  the  observation 
which  M.  Dacier  makes  in  her  preface  to  her  Aristophanes :  Je  tiens 
pour  une  maxime  constante,  qu'une  bcaute  mediocre  plait  plus  generalc- 
ment  qu'une  beaute  sans  defaut.  Mr.  Congreve  hath  made  such  an- 
other blunder  in  his  Love  for  Love,  where  Tattle  tells  Miss  Prue, 
'  She  should  admire  him  as  much  for  the  beauty  he  commends  in  her 
as  if  he  himself  was  possessed  of  it.' 

178 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

me,  that  I  followed  their  advice,  and  soon  succeeded,  for  the 
trustees  did  not  contest  the  matter  very  obstinately  on  their 
side.  "  Sir,"  said  Adams,  "  may  I  crave  the  favour  of  your 
name?"  The  gentleman  answered  his  name  was  Wilson, 
and  then  proceeded. 

I  stayed  a  very  little  while  at  school  after  his  death ;  for, 
being  a  forward  youth,  I  was  extremely  impatient  to  be  in 
the  world,  for  which  I  thought  my  parts,  knowledge,  and 
manhood,  thoroughly  qualified  me.  And  to  this  early  intro- 
duction into  life,  without  a  guide,  I  impute  all  my  future 
misfortunes ;  for,  besides  the  obvious  mischiefs  which  attend 
this,  there  is  one  which  hath  not  been  so  generally  observed : 
the  first  impression  which  mankind  receives  of  you  will  be 
very  difficult  to  eradicate.  How  unhappy,  therefore,  must  it 
be  to  fix  your  character  in  life,  before  you  can  possibly  know 
its  value,  or  weigh  the  consequences  of  those  actions  which 
are  to  establish  your  future  reputation ! 

A  little  under  seventeen  I  left  my  scnool,  and  went  to  Lon- 
don with  no  more  than  six  pounds  in  my  pocket :  a  great  sum, 
as  I  then  conceived ;  and  which  I  was  afterwards  surprized 
to  find  so  soon  consumed. 

The  character  I  was  ambitious  of  attaining  was  that  of  a 
fine  gentleman;  the  first  requisites  to  which  I  apprehended 
were  to  be  supplied  by  a  tailor,  a  periwig-maker,  and  some 
few  more  tradesmen,  who  deal  in  furnishing  out  the  human 
body.  Notwithstanding  the  lowness  of  my  purse,  I  found 
credit  with  them  more  easily  than  I  expected,  and  was  soon 
equipped  to  my  wish.  This  I  own  then  agreeably  surprized 
me ;  but  I  have  since  learned  that  it  is  a  maxim  among  many 
tradesmen  at  the  polite  end  of  the  town  to  deal  as  largely  as 
they  can,  reckon  as  high  as  they  can,  and  arrest  as  soon  as  they 
can. 

The  next  qualifications,  namely,  dancing,  fencing,  riding 
the  great  horse,  and  music,  came  into  my  head :  but,  as  they 
required  expense  and  time,  I  comforted  myself,  with  regard 
to  dancing,  that  I  had  learned  a  little  in  my  youth,  and  could 
walk  a  minuet  genteelly  enough ;  as  to  fencing,  I  thought 
my  good-humour  would  preserve  me  from  the  danger  of  a 
quarrel ;  as  to  the  horse,  I  hoped  it  would  not  be  thought  of ; 
and  for  music,  I  imagined  I  could  easily  acquire  the  reputa- 

179 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

tion  of  it ;  for  I  had  heard  some  of  my  school-fellows  pretend 
to  knowledge  in  operas,  without  being  able  to  sing  or  play 
on  the  fiddle. 

Knowledge  of  the  town  seemed  another  ingredient;  this 
I  thought  I  should  arrive  at  by  frequenting  public  places. 
Accordingly  I  paid  constant  attendance  to  them  all ;  by  which 
means  I  was  soon  master  of  the  fashionable  phrases,  learned 
to  cry  up  the  fashionable  diversions,  and  knew  the  names  and 
faces  of  the  most  fashionable  men  and  women. 

Nothing  now  seemed  to  remain  but  an  intrigue,  which  I 
was  resolved  to  have  immediately;  I  mean  the  reputation  of 
it ;  and  indeed  I  was  so  successful,  that  in  a  very  short  time 
I  had  half-a-dozen  with  the  finest  women  in  the  town. 

At  these  words  Adams  fetched  a  deep  groan,  and  then, 
blessing  himself,  cried  out,  "Good  Lord!  what  wicked  times 
these  are ! " 

Not  so  wicked  as  you  imagine,  continued  the  gentleman ; 
for  I  assure  you  they  were  all  vestal  virgins  for  anything 
which  I  knew  to  the  contrary.  The  reputation  of  intriguing 
with  them  was  all  I  sought,  and  was  what  I  arrived  at :  and 
perhaps  I  only  flattered  myself  even  in  that ;  for  very  prob- 
ably the  persons  to  whom  I  showed  their  billets  knew  as 
well  as  I  that  they  were  counterfeits,  and  that  I  had  written 
them  to  myself.  "  Write  letters  to  yourself !  "  said  Adams, 
staring.  O  sir,  answered  the  gentleman,  it  is  the  very  error 
of  the  times.  Half  our  modern  plays  have  one  of  these  char- 
acters in  them.  It  is  incredible  the  pains  I  have  taken,  and 
the  absurd  methods  I  employed,  to  traduce  the  character  of 
women  of  distinction.  When  another  had  spoken  in  raptures 
of  any  one,  I  have  answered,  "  D — n  her,  she !     We  shall 

have  her  at  H d's  very  soon."     When  he  hath  replied, 

he  thought  her  virtuous,  I  have  answered,  "  Aye,  thou  wilt 
always  think  a  woman  virtuous,  till  she  is  in  the  streets ; 
but  you  and  I,  Jack  or  Tom  (turning  to  another  in  company), 
know  better."  At  which  I  have  drawn  a  paper  out  of  my 
pocket,  perhaps  a  tailor's  bill,  and  kissed  it,  crying  at  the 
same  time,  "  By  Gad  I  was  once  fond  of  her." 

'  Proceed,  if  you  please,  but  do  not  swear  any  more,"  said 
Adams. 

Sir,  said  the  gentleman,  I  ask  your  pardon.     Well,  sir,  in 

180 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

this  course  of  life  I  continued  full  three  years — "  What  course 
of  life?"  answered  Adams;  "I  do  not  remember  you  have 
mentioned  any." — Your  remark  is  just,  said  the  gentleman, 
smiling;  I  should  rather  have  said,  in  this  course  of  doing 
nothing.  I  remember  some  time  afterwards  I  wrote  the  jour- 
nal of  one  day,  which  would  serve,  I  believe,  as  well  for  any 
other  during  the  whole  time.  I  will  endeavour  to  repeat  it 
to  you. 

In  the  morning  I  arose,  took  my  great  stick,  and  walked 
out  in  my  green  frock,  with  my  hair  in  papers  (a  groan  from 
Adams),  and  sauntered  about  till  ten.  Went  to  the  auction; 
told  lady she  had  a  dirty  face ;  laughed  heartily  at  some- 
thing captain  said,  I  can't  remember  what,  for  I  did 

not  very  well  hear  it ;  whispered  lord ;  bowed  to  the  duke 

of ;  and  was  going  to  bid  for  a  snuff-box,  but  did  not, 

for  fear  I  should  have  had  it. 

From  2  to    4,  drest  myself.    A  groan. 
4  to    6,  dined.    A  groan. 
6  to    8,  coffee-house. 

8  to    9,  Drury-lane  playhouse. 

9  to  10,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields. 

10  to  12,  Drawing-room.    A  great  groan. 

At  all  which  places  nothing  happened  worth  remark. 

At  which  Adams  said,  with  some  vehemence,  "  Sir,  this  is 
below  the  life  of  an  animal,  hardly  above  vegetation :  and  I 
am  surprized  what  could  lead  a  man  of  your  sense  into  it." 
What  leads  us  into  more  follies  than  you  imagine,  doctor,  an- 
swered the  gentleman — vanity ;  for  as  contemptible  a  creature 
as  I  was,  and  I  assure  you,  yourself  cannot  have  more  con- 
tempt for  such  a  wretch  than  I  now  have,  I  then  admired 
myself,  and  should  have  despised  a  person  of  your  present 
appearance  (you  will  pardon  me),  with  all  your  learning 
and  those  excellent  qualities  which  I  have  remarked  in  you. 
Adams  bowed,  and  begged  him  to  proceed.  After  I  had  con- 
tinued two  years  in  this  course  of  life,  said  the  gentleman, 
an  accident  happened  which  obliged  me  to  change  the  scene. 
As  I  was  one  day  at  St  James's  coffee-house,  making  very 
free  with  the  character  of  a  young  lady  of  quality,  an  officer 

181 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

of  the  guards,  who  was  present,  thought  proper  to  give  me 
the  lie.  I  answered  I  might  possibly  be  mistaken,  but  I 
intended  to  tell  no  more  than  the  truth.  To  which  he  made 
no  reply  but  by  a  scornful  sneer.  After  this  I  observed  a 
strange  coldness  in  all  my  acquaintance;  none  of  them  spoke 
to  me  first,  and  very  few  returned  me  even  the  civility  of  a 
bow.  The  company  I  used  to  dine  with  left  me  out,  and 
within  a  week  I  found  myself  in  as  much  solitude  at  St 
James's  as  if  I  had  been  in  a  desert.  An  honest  elderly  man, 
with  a  great  hat  and  long  sword,  at  last  told  me  he  had  a 
compassion  for  my  youth,  and  therefore  advised  me  to  show 
the  world  I  was  not  such  a  rascal  as  they  thought  me  to  be. 
I  did  not  at  first  understand  him ;  but  he  explained  himself, 
and  ended  with  telling  me,  if  I  would  write  a  challenge  to 
the  captain,  he  would,  out  of  pure  charity,  go  to  him  with  it. 
"  A  very  charitable  person,  truly !  "  cried  Adams.  I  desired 
till  the  next  day,  continued  the  gentleman,  to  consider  on  it, 
and,  retiring  to  my  lodgings,  I  weighed  the  consequences  on 
both  sides  as  fairly  as  I  could.  On  the  one,  I  saw  the  risk 
of  this  alternative,  either  losing  my  own  life,  or  having  on 
my  hands  the  blood  of  a  man  with  whom  I  was  not  in  the  least 
angry.  I  soon  determined  that  the  good  which  appeared  on 
the  other  was  not  worth  this  hazard.  I  therefore  resolved 
to  quit  the  scene,  and  presently  retired  to  the  Temple,  where  I 
took  chambers.  Here  I  soon  got  a  fresh  set  of  acquaintance, 
who  knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened  to  me.  Indeed,  they 
were  not  greatly  to  my  approbation ;  for  the  beaux  of  the 
Temple  are  only  the  shadows  of  the  others.  They  are  the 
affectation  of  affectation.  The  vanity  of  these  is  still  more 
ridiculous,  if  possible,  than  of  the  others.  Here  I  met  with 
smart  fellows  who  drank  with  lords  they  did  not  know,  and 
intrigued  with  women  they  never  saw.  Covent  Garden  was 
now  the  farthest  stretch  of  my  ambition ;  where  I  shone  forth 
in  the  balconies  at  the  playhouses,  visited  whores,  made  love 
to  orange-wenches,  and  damned  plays.  This  career  was  soon 
put  a  stop  to  by  my  surgeon,  who  convinced  me  of  the  neces- 
sity of  confining  myself  to  my  room  for  a  month.  At  the  end 
of  which,  having  had  leisure  to  reflect,  I  resolved  to  quit  all 
farther  conversation  with  beaux  and  smarts  of  every  kind, 
and  to  avoid,  if  possible,  any  occasion  of  returning  to  this 

182 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

place  of  confinement.  "  I  think,"  said  Adams,  "  the  advice 
of  a  month's  retirement  and  reflection  was  very  proper;  but 
I  should  rather  have  expected  it  from  a  divine  than  a  sur- 
geon." The  gentleman  smiled  at  Adams's  simplicity,  and, 
without  explaining  himself  farther  on  such  an  odious  sub- 
ject, went  on  thus :  I  was  no  sooner  perfectly  restored  to 
health  than  I  found  my  passion  for  women,  which  I  was 
afraid  to  satisfy  as  I  had  done,  made  me  very  uneasy ;  I  deter- 
mined, therefore,  to  keep  a  mistress.  Nor  was  I  long  before  I 
fixed  my  choice  on  a  young  woman,  who  had  before  been  kept 
by  two  gentlemen,  and  to  whom  I  was  recommended  by  a 
celebrated  bawd.  I  took  her  home  to  my  chambers,  and  made 
her  a  settlement  during  cohabitation.  This  would,  perhaps, 
have  been  very  ill  paid :  however,  she  did  not  suffer  me  to  be 
perplexed  on  that  account;  for,  before  quarter-day,  I  found 
her  at  my  chambers  in  too  familiar  conversation  with  a  young 
fellow  who  was  drest  like  an  officer,  but  was  indeed  a  city 
apprentice.  Instead  of  excusing  her  inconstancy,  she  rapped 
out  half-a-dozen  oaths,  and,  snapping  her  fingers  at  me,  swore 
she  scorned  to  confine  herself  to  the  best  man  in  England. 
Upon  this  we  parted,  and  the  same  bawd  presently  provided 
her  another  keeper.  I  was  not  so  much  concerned  at  our 
separation  as  I  found,  within  a  day  or  two,  I  had  reason  to 
be  for  our  meeting;  for  I  was  obliged  to  pay  a  second  visit 
to  my  surgeon.  I  was  now  forced  to  do  penance  for  some 
weeks,  during  which  time  I  contracted  an  acquaintance  with 
a  beautiful  young  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  who,  after 
having  been  forty  years  in  the  army,  and  in  all  the  campaigns 
under  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  died  a  lieutenant  on  half 
pay,  and  had  left  a  widow,  with  this  only  child,  in  very  distrest 
circumstances :  they  had  only  a  small  pension  from  the  gov- 
ernment, with  what  little  the  daughter  could  add  to  it  by  her 
work,  for  she  had  great  excellence  at  her  needle.  This  girl 
was,  at  my  first  acqaintance  with  her,  solicited  in  marriage 
by  a  young  fellow  in  good  circumstances.  He  was  apprentice 
to  a  linen-draper,  and  had  a  little  fortune,  sufficient  to  set  up 
his  trade.  The  mother  was  greatly  pleased  with  this  match, 
as  indeed  she  had  sufficient  reason.  However,  I  soon  pre- 
vented it.  I  represented  him  in  so  low  a  light  to  his  mistress, 
and  made  so  good  an  use  of  flattery,  promises,  and  presents, 

183 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

that,  not  to  dwell  longer  on  this  subject  than  is  necessary,  I 
prevailed  with  the  poor  girl,  and  conveyed  her  away  from  her 
mother!  In  a  word,  I  debauched  her. —  (At  which  words 
Adams  started  up,  fetched  three  strides  across  the  room,  and 
then  replaced  himself  in  his  chair.)  You  are  not  more  af- 
fected with  this  part  of  my  story  than  myself;  I  assure  you 
it  will  never  be  sufficiently  repented  of  in  my  own  opinion : 
but,  if  you  already  detest  it,  how  much  more  will  your  indigna- 
tion be  raised  when  you  hear  the  fatal  conseqences  of  this  bar- 
barous, this  villanous  action !  If  you  please,  therefore,  I  will 
here  desist. — "  By  no  means,"  cries  Adams ;  "  go  on,  I  beseech 
you ;  and  Heaven  grant  you  may  sincerely  repent  of  this  and 
many  other  things  you  have  related !  " — I  was  now,  continued 
the  gentleman,  as  happy  as  the  possession  of  a  fine  young  crea- 
ture, who  had  a  good  education,  and  was  endued  with  many 
agreeable  qualities,  could  make  me.  We  lived  some  months 
with  vast  fondness  together,  without  any  company  or  conver- 
sation, more  than  we  found  in  one  another :  but  this  could  not 
continue  always ;  and,  though  I  still  preserved  a  great  affec- 
tion for  her,  I  began  more  and  more  to  want  relief  of  other 
company,  and  consequently  to  leave  her  by  degrees — at  last, 
whole  days  to  herself.  She  failed  not  to  testify  some  uneasi- 
ness on  these  occasions,  and  complained  of  the  melancholy 
life  she  led;  to  remedy  which,  I  introduced  her  into  the  ac- 
quaintance of  some  other  kept  mistresses,  with  whom  she 
used  to  play  at  cards,  and  frequent  plays  and  other  diversions. 
She  had  not  lived  long  in  this  intimacy  before  I  perceived  a 
visible  alteration  in  her  behaviour ;  all  her  modesty  and  inno- 
cence vanished  by  degrees,  till  her  mind  became  thoroughly 
tainted.  She  affected  the  company  of  rakes,  gave  herself  all 
manner  of  airs,  was  never  easy  but  abroad,  or  when  she  had 
a  party  at  my  chambers.  She  was  rapacious  of  money,  ex- 
travagant to  excess,  loose  in  her  conversation ;  and,  if  ever  I 
demurred  to  any  of  her  demands,  oaths,  tears,  and  fits  were 
the  immediate  consequences.  As  the  first  raptures  of  fondness 
were  long  since  over,  this  behaviour  soon  estranged  my  affec- 
tions from  her;  I  began  to  reflect  with  pleasure  that  she  was 
not  my  wife,  and  to  conceive  an  intention  of  parting  with  her; 
of  which  having  given  her  a  hint,  she  took  care  to  prevent 
me  the  pains  of  turning  her  out  of  doors,  and  accordingly 

184 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

departed  herself,  having  first  broken  open  my  escritoire,  and 
taken  with  her  all  she  could  find,  to  the  amount  of  about  200/. 
In  the  first  heat  of  my  resentment  I  resolved  to  pursue  her 
with  all  the  vengeance  of  the  law :  but,  as  she  had  the  good 
luck  to  escape  me  during  that  ferment,  my  passion  afterwards 
cooled ;  and,  having  reflected  that  I  had  been  the  first  ag- 
gressor, and  had  done  her  an  injury  for  which  I  could  make 
her  no  reparation,  by  robbing  her  of  the  innocence  of  her 
mind ;  and  hearing  at  the  same  time  that  the  poor  old  woman 
her  mother  had  broke  her  heart  on  her  daughter's  elopement 
from  her,  I,  concluding  myself  her  murderer  ("  As  you  very 
well  might,"  cries  Adams,  with  a  groan),  was  pleased  that 
God  Almighty  had  taken  this  method  of  punishing  me,  and  re- 
solved quietly  to  submit  to  the  loss.  Indeed,  I  could  wish  I 
had  never  heard  more  of  the  poor  creature,  who  became  in  the 
end  an  abandoned  profligate;  and,  after  being  some  years  a 
common  prostitute,  at  last  ended  her  miserable  life  in  New- 
gate.— Here  the  gentleman  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  which  Mr 
Adams  echoed  very  loudly ;  and  both  continued  silent,  looking 
on  each  other  for  some  minutes.  At  last  the  gentleman  pro- 
ceeded thus :  I  had  been  perfectly  constant  to  this  girl  during 
the  whole  time  I  kept  her :  but  she  had  scarce  departed  before 
I  discovered  more  marks  of  her  infidelity  to  me  than  the 
loss  of  my  money.  In  short,  I  was  forced  to  make  a  third 
visit  to  my  surgeon,  out  of  whose  hands  I  did  not  get  a  hasty 
discharge. 

I  now  forswore  all  future  dealings  with  the  sex,  complained 
loudly  that  the  pleasure  did  not  compensate  the  pain,  and 
railed  at  the  beautiful  creatures  in  as  gross  language  as 
Juvenal  himself  formerly  reviled  them  in.  I  looked  on  all 
the  town  harlots  with  a  detestation  not  easy  to  be  conceived, 
their  persons  appeared  to  me  as  painted  palaces,  inhabited 
by  Disease  and  Death :  nor  could  their  beauty  make  them 
more  desirable  objects  in  my  eyes  than  gilding  could  make 
me  covet  a  pill,  or  golden  plates  a  coffin.  But  though  I  was 
no  longer  the  absolute  slave,  I  found  some  reasons  to 
own  myself  still  the  subject,  of  love.  My  hatred  for  women 
decreased  daily;  and  I  am  not  positive  but  time  might  have 
betrayed  me  again  to  some  common  harlot,  had  I  not  been 
secured  bv  a  passion  for  the  charming  Sapphira,  which,  hav- 

185 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

ing  once  entered  upon,  made  a  violent  progress  in  my  heart. 
Sapphira  was  wife  to  a  man  of  fashion  and  gallantry,  and 
one  who  seemed,  I  own,  every  way  worthy  of  her  affections; 
which,  however,  he  had  not  the  reputation  of  having.  She 
was  indeed  a  coquette  achevee.  "  Pray,  sir,"  says  Adams, 
"  what  is  a  coquette?  I  have  met  with  the  word  in  French 
authors,  but  never  could  assign  any  idea  to  it.  I  believe  it  is 
the  same  with  une  sotte,  Anglice,  a  fool."  Sir,  answered  the 
gentleman,  perhaps  you  are  not  much  mistaken ;  but,  as  it  is  a 
particular  kind  of  folly,  I  will  endeavour  to  describe  it.  Were 
all  creatures  to  be  ranked  in  the  order  of  creation  according  to 
their  usefulness,  I  know  few  animals  that  would  not  take  place 
of  a  coquette ;  nor  indeed  hath  this  creature  much  pretence 
to  anything  beyond  instinct ;  for,  though  sometimes  we  might 
imagine  it  was  animated  by  the  passion  of  vanity,  yet  far  the 
greater  part  of  its  actions  fall  beneath  even  that  low  motive ; 
for  instance,  several  absurd  gestures  and  tricks,  infinitely 
more  foolish  than  what  can  be  observed  in  the  most  ridicu- 
lous birds  and  beasts,  and  which  would  persuade  the  beholder 
that  the  silly  wretch  was  aiming  at  our  contempt.  Indeed 
its  characteristic  is  affectation,  and  this  led  and  governed  by 
whim  only :  for  as  beauty,  wisdom,  wit,  good-nature,  polite- 
ness, and  health,  are  sometimes  affected  by  this  creature,  so 
are  ugliness,  folly,  nonsense,  ill-nature,  ill-breeding,  and 
sickness,  likewise  put  on  by  it  in  their  turn.  Its  life  is  one 
constant  lie ;  and  the  only  rule  by  which  you  can  form  any 
judgment  of  them  is,  that  they  are  never  what  they  seem. 
If  it  was  possible  for  a  coquette  to  love  (as  it  is  not,  for  if 
ever  it  attains  this  passion  the  coquette  ceases  instantly),  it 
would  wear  the  face  of  indifference,  if  not  of  hatred,  to  the 
beloved  object;  you  may  therefore  be  assured,  when  they 
endeavour  to  persuade  you  of  their  liking,  that  they  are  in- 
different to  you  at  least.  And  indeed  this  was  the  case  of 
my  Sapphira,  who  no  sooner  saw  me  in  the  number  of  her 
admirers  than  she  gave  me  what  is  commonly  called  encour- 
agement :  she  would  often  look  at  me,  and,  when  she  per- 
ceived me  meet  her  eyes,  would  instantly  take  them  off,  dis- 
covering at  the  same  time  as  much  surprize  and  emotion  as 
possible.     These  arts  failed  not  of  the  success  she  intended; 

186 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

and,  as  I  grew  more  particular  to  her  than  the  rest  of  her 
admirers,  she  advanced,  in  proportion,  more  directly  to  me 
than  to  the  others.  She  affected  the  low  voice,  whisper,  lisp, 
sigh,  start,  laugh,  and  many  other  indications  of  passion 
which  daily  deceive  thousands.  When  I  played  at  whist  with 
her,  she  would  look  earnestly  at  me,  and  at  the  same  time 
lose  deal  or  revoke ;  then  burst  into  a  ridiculous  laugh,  and 
cry,  "  La !  I  can't  imagine  what  I  was  thinking  of."  To 
detain  you  no  longer,  after  I  had  gone  through  a  sufficient 
course  of  gallantry,  as  I  thought,  and  was  thoroughly  con- 
vinced I  had  raised  a  violent  passion  in  my  mistress,  I  sought 
an  opportunity  of  coming  to  an  eclaircissement  with  her. 
She  avoided  this  as  much  as  possible ;  however,  great  as- 
siduity at  length  presented  me  one.  I  will  not  describe  all 
the  particulars  of  this  interview ;  let  it  suffice  that,  when  she 
could  no  longer  pretend  not  to  see  my  drift,  she  first  affected 
a  violent  surprize,  and  immediately  after  as  violent  a  pas- 
sion :  she  wondered  what  I  had  seen  in  her  conduct  which 
could  induce  me  to  affront  her  in  this  manner ;  and,  break- 
ing from  me  the  first  moment  she  could,  told  me  I  had  no 
other  way  to  escape  the  consequence  of  her  resentment  than 
by  never  seeing,  or  at  least  speaking  to  her  more.  I  was  not 
contented  with  this  answer;  I  still  pursued  her,  but  to  no 
purpose ;  and  was  at  length  convinced  that  her  husband  had 
the  sole  possession  of  her  person,  and  that  neither  he  nor 
any  other  had  made  any  impression  on  her  heart.^^I^was 
taken  off  from  following  this  ignis  fatuus  by  some  advances 
which  were  made  me  by  the  wife  of  a  citizen,  who,  though 
neither  very  young  nor  handsome,  was  yet  too  agreeable  to 
be  rejected  by  my  amorous  constitution.  I  accordingly  soon 
satisfied  her  that  she  had  not  cast  away  her  hints  on  a  barren 
or  cold  soil :  on  the  contrary,  they  instantly  produced  her  an 
eager  and  desiring  lover.  Nor  did  she  give  me  any  reason 
to  complain ;  she  met  the  warmth  she  had  raised  with  equal 
ardour.  I  had  no  longer  a  coquette  to  deal  with,  but  one  who 
was  wiser  than  to  prostitute  the  noble  passion  of  love  to  the 
ridiculous  lust  of  vanity.  We  presently  understood  one  an- 
other ;  and,  as  the  pleasures  we  sought  lay  in  a  mutual  grati- 
fication, we  soon  found  and  enjoyed  them.    I  thought  myself 

187 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

at  first  greatly  happy  in  the  possession  of  this  new  mistress, 
whose  fondness  would  have  quickly  surfeited  a  more  sickly 
appetite ;  but  it  had  a  different  effect  on  mine :  she  carried 
my  passion  higher  by  it  than  youth  or  beauty  had  been  able. 
But  my  happiness  could  not  long  continue  uninterrupted. 
The  apprehensions  we  lay  under  from  the  jealousy  of  her  hus- 
band gave  us  great  uneasiness.  "  Poor  wretch !  I  pity  him," 
cried  Adams.  He  did  indeed  deserve  it,  said  the  gentleman ; 
for  he  loved  his  wife  with  great  tenderness ;  and,  I  assure 
you,  it  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  that  I  was  not  the  man 
who  first  seduced  her  affections  from  him.  These  apprehen- 
sions appeared  also  too  well  grounded,  for  in  the  end  he  dis- 
covered us,  and  procured  witnesses  of  our  caresses.  He  then 
prosecuted  me  at  law,  and  recovered  3000/.  damages,  which 
much  distressed  my  fortune  to  pay ;  and  what  was  worse,  his 
wife,  being  divorced,  came  upon  my  hands.  I  led  a  very  un- 
easy life  with  her ;  for,  besides  that  my  passion  was  now  much 
abated,  her  excessive  jealousy  was  very  troublesome.  At 
length  death  delivered  me  from  an  inconvenience  which  the 
consideration  of  my  having  been  the  author  of  her  misfor- 
tunes would  never  suffer  me  to  take  any  other  method  of 
discarding. 

I  now  bade  adieu  to  love,  and  resolved  to  pursue  other  less 
dangerous  and  expensive  pleasures.  I  fell  into  the  acquain- 
tance of  a  set  of  jolly  companions,  who  slept  all  day  and 
drank  all  night ;  fellows  who  might  rather  be  said  to  consume 
time  than  to  live.  Their  best  conversation  was  nothing  but 
noise :  singing,  hollowing,  wrangling,  drinking,  toasting, 
sp — wing,  smoking,  were  the  chief  ingredients  of  our  enter- 
tainment. And  yet,  bad  as  these  were,  they  were  more  tol- 
erable than  our  graver  scenes,  which  were  either  excessive 
tedious  narratives  of  dull  common  matters  of  fact,  or  hot 
disputes  about  trifling  matters,  which  commonly  ended  in  a 
wager.  This  way  of  life  the  first  serious  reflection  put  a 
period  to;  and  I  became  member  of  a  club  frequented  by 
young  men  of  great  abilities.  The  bottle  was  now  only 
called  in  to  the  assistance  of  our  conversation,  which  rolled 
on  the  deepest  points  of  philosophy.  These  gentlemen  were 
engaged  in  a  search  after  truth,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  they 

188 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

threw  aside  all  the  prejudices  of  education,  and  governed 
themselves  only  by  the  infallible  guide  of  human  reason. 
This  great  guide,  after  having  shown  them  the  falsehood  of 
that  very  antient  but  simple  tenet,  that  there  is  such  a  being 
as  a  Deity  in  the  universe,  helped  them  to  establish  in  his  stead 
a  certain  rule  of  right,  by  adhering  to  which  they  all  arrived 
at  the  utmost  purity  of  morals.  Reflection  made  me  as  much 
delighted  with  this  society  as  it  had  taught  me  to  despise  and 
detest  the  former.  I  began  now  to  esteem  myself  a 
being  of  a  higher  order  than  I  had  ever  before  conceived; 
and  was  the  more  charmed  with  this  rule  of  right,  as  I  really 
found  in  my  own  nature  nothing  repugnant  to  it.  I  held  in 
utter  contempt  all  persons  who  wanted  any  other  inducement 
to  virtue  besides  her  intrinsic  beauty  and  excellence ;  and 
had  so  high  an  opinion  of  my  present  companions,  with  re- 
gard to  their  morality,  that  I  would  have  trusted  them  with 
whatever  was  nearest  and  dearest  to  me.  Whilst  I  was  en- 
gaged in  this  delightful  dream,  two  or  three  accidents  hap- 
pened successively,  which  at  first  much  surprized  me ; — for 
one  of  our  greatest  philosophers,  or  rule-of-right  men,  with- 
drew himself  from  us,  taking  with  him  the  wife  of  one  of 
his  most  intimate  friends.  Secondly,  another  of  the  same 
society  left  the  club  without  remembering  to  take  leave  of 
his  bail.  A  third,  having  borrowed  a  sum  of  money  of  me, 
for  which  I  received  no  security,  when  I  asked  him  to  repay 
it,  absolutely  denied  the  loan.  These  several  practices,  so  in- 
consistent with  our  golden  rule,  made  me  begin  to  suspect 
its  infallibility ;  but  when  I  communicated  my  thoughts  to 
one  of  the  club,  he  said,  there  was  nothing  absolutely  good 
or  evil  in  itself;  that  actions  were  denominated  good  or  bad 
by  the  circumstances  of  the  agent.  That  possibly  the  man 
who  ran  away  with  his  neighbour's  wife  might  be  one  of 
very  good  inclinations,  but  over-prevailed  on  by  the  violence 
of  an  unruly  passion;  and,  in  other  particulars,  might  be  a 
very  worthy  member  of  society ;  that  if  the  beauty  of  any 
woman  created  in  him  an  uneasiness,  he  had  a  right  from 
nature  to  relieve  himself ; — with  many  other  things,  which 
I  then  detested  so  much,  that  I  took  leave  of  the  society  that 
very  evening  and  never  returned  to  it  again.     Being  now 

189 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

reduced  to  a  state  of  solitude  which  I  did  not  like,  I  became 
a  great  frequenter  of  the  playhouses,  which  indeed  was  al- 
ways my  favourite  diversion ;  and  most  evenings  passed 
away  two  or  three  hours  behind  the  scenes,  where  I  met  with 
several  poets,  with  whom  I  made  engagements  at  the  taverns. 
Some  of  the  players  were  likewise  of  our  parties.  At  these 
meetings  we  were  generally  entertained  by  the  poets  with 
reading  their  performances,  and  by  the  players  with  repeating 
their  parts :  upon  which  occasions,  I  observed  the  gentleman 
who  furnished  our  entertainment  was  commonly  the  best 
pleased  of  the  company;  who,  though  they  were  pretty  civil 
to  him  to  his  face,  seldom  failed  to  take  the  first  opportunity 
of  his  absence  to  ridicule  him.  Now  I  made  some  remarks 
which  probably  are  too  obvious  to  be  worth  relating.  "  Sir," 
says  Adams,  "  your  remarks  if  you  please."  First  then,  says 
he,  I  concluded  that  the  general  observation,  that  wits  are 
most  inclined  to  vanity,  is  not  true.  Men  are  equally  vain 
of  riches,  strength,  beauty,  honours,  etc.  But  these  appear 
of  themselves  to  the  eyes  of  the  beholders,  whereas  the  poor 
wit  is  obliged  to  produce  his  performance  to  show  you  his 
perfection ;  and  on  his  readiness  to  do  this  that  vulgar  opinion 
1  have  before  mentioned  is  grounded;  but  doth  not  the  per- 
son who  expends  vast  sums  in  the  furniture  of  his  house  or 
the  ornaments  of  his  person,  who  consumes  much  time  and 
employs  great  pains  in  dressing  himself,  or  who  thinks  him- 
self paid  for  self-denial,  labour,  or  even  villany,  by  a  title  or 
a  ribbon,  sacrifice  as  much  to  vanity  as  the  poor  wit  who  is 
desirous  to  read  you  his  poem  or  his  play?  My  second  re- 
mark was,  that  vanity  is  the  worst  of  passions,  and  more  apt 
to  contaminate  the  mind  than  any  other :  for,  as  selfishness 
is  much  more  general  than  we  please  to  allow  it,  so  it  is 
natural  to  hate  and  envy  those  who  stand  between  us  and 
the  good  we  desire.  Now,  in  lust  and  ambition  these  are 
few ;  and  even  in  avarice  we  find  many  who  are  no  obstacles 
to  our  pursuits ;  but  the  vain  man  seeks  pre-eminence ;  and 
everything  which  is  excellent  or  praiseworthy  in  another  ren- 
ders him  the  mark  of  his  antipathy.  Adams  now  began  to 
fumble  in  his  pockets,  and  soon  cried  out,  "  O  la !  I  have  it 
not    about    me."      Upon    this,    the    gentleman    asking    him 

190 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

what  he  was  searching  for,  he  said  he  searched  after  a  sermon, 
which  he  thought  his  masterpiece,  against  vanity.  "  Fie 
upon  it,  fie  upon  it !  "  cries  he,  "  why  do  I  ever  leave  that 
sermon,  out  of  my  pocket  ?  I  wish  it  was  within  five  miles ; 
I  would  willingly  fetch  it,  to  read  it  you."  The  gentleman 
answered  that  there  was  no  need,  for  he  was  cured  of  the 
passion.  "  And  for  that  very  reason,"  quoth  Adams,  "  I 
would  read  it,  for  I  am  confident  you  would  admire  it :  in- 
deed, I  have  never  been  a  greater  enemy  to  any  passion  than 
that  silly  one  of  vanity."  The  gentleman  smiled,  and  pro- 
ceeded— From  this  society  I  easily  passed  to  that  of  the 
gamesters,  where  nothing  remarkable  happened  but  the 
finishing  my  fortune,  which  those  gentlemen  soon  helped  me 
to  the  end  of.  This  opened  scenes  of  life  hitherto  unknown ; 
poverty  and  distress,  with  their  horrid  train  of  duns,  attor- 
neys, bailiffs,  haunted  me  day  and  night.  My  clothes  grew 
shabby,  my  credit  bad,  my  friends  and  acquaintance  of  all 
kinds  cold.  In  this  situation  the  strangest  thought  imaginable 
came  into  my  head ;  and  what  was  this  but  to  write  a  play  ? 
for  I  had  sufficient  leisure :  fear  of  bailiffs  confined  me  every 
day  to  my  room :  and,  having  always  had  a  little  inclination 
and  something  of  a  genius  that  way,  I  set  myself  to  work, 
and  within  a  few  months  produced  a  piece  of  five  acts,  which 
was  accepted  of  at  the  theatre.  I  remembered  to  have  for- 
merly taken  tickets  of  other  poets  for  their  benefits,  long  be- 
fore the  appearance  of  their  performances ;  and,  resolving 
to  follow  a  precedent  which  was  so  well  suited  to  my  present 
circumstances,  I  immediately  provided  myself  with  a  large 
number  of  little  papers.  Happy  indeed  would  be  the  state  of 
poetry,  would  these  tickets  pass  current  at  the  bakehouse,  the 
ale-house,  and  the  chandler's-shop :  but  alas !  far  otherwise ; 
no  tailor  will  take  them  in  payment  for  buckram,  canvas, 
stay-tape  ;  nor  no  bailiff  for  civility-money.  They  are,  indeed, 
no  more  than  a  passport  to  beg  with ;  a  certificate  that  the 
owner  wants  five  shillings,  which  induces  well-disposed 
Christians  to  charity.  I  now  experienced  what  is  worse  than 
poverty,  or  rather  what  is  the  worst  consequence  of  poverty, — 
I  mean  attendance  and  dependence  on  the  great.  Many  a 
morning  have  I  waited  hours  in  the  cold  parlours  of  men  of 

191 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

quality ;  where,  after  seeing  the  lowest  rascals  in  lace  and 
embroidery,  the  pimps  and  buffoons  in  fashion,  admitted,  I 
have  been  sometimes  told,  on  sending  in  my  name,  that  my 
lord  could  not  possibly  see  me  this  morning:  a  sufficient  as- 
surance that  I  should  never  more  get  entrance  into  that  house. 
Sometimes  I  have  been  at  last  admitted ;  and  the  great  man 
hath  thought  proper  to  excuse  himself,  by  telling  me  he  was 
tied  up.  "  Tied  up,"  says  Adams,  "  pray  what's  that?  "  Sir, 
says  the  gentleman,  the  profit  which  booksellers  allowed 
authors  for  the  best  works  was  so  very  small,  that  certain 
men  of  birth  and  fortune  some  years  ago,  who  were  the  pa- 
trons of  wit  and  learning,  thought  fit  to  encourage  them  far- 
ther by  entering  into  voluntary  subscriptions  for  their  en- 
couragement. Thus  Prior,  Rowe,  Pope,  and  some  other  men 
of  genius,  received  large  sums  for  their  labours  from  the  pub- 
lic. This  seemed  so  easy  a  method  of  getting  money,  that 
many  of  the  lowest  scribblers  of  the  times  ventured  to  pub- 
lish their  works  in  the  same  way ;  and  many  had  the  assurance 
to  take  in  subscriptions  for  what  was  not  writ,  nor  ever  in- 
tended. Subscriptions  in  this  manner  growing  infinite,  and 
a  kind  of  tax  on  the  public,  some  persons,  finding  it  not  so 
easy  a  task  to  discern  good  from  bad  authors,  or  to  know  what 
genius  was  worthy  encouragement  and  what  was  not,  to  pre- 
vent the  expense  of  subscribing  to  so  many,  invented  a  method 
to  excuse  themselves  from  all  subscriptions  whatever;  and 
this  was  to  receive  a  small  sum  of  money  in  consideration  of 
giving  a  large  one  if  ever  they  subscribed ;  which  many  have 
done,  and  many  more  have  pretended  to  have  done,  in  order  to 
silence  all  solicitation.  The  same  method  was  likewise  taken 
with  playhouse  tickets,  which  were  no  less  a  public  griev- 
ance ;  and  this  is  what  they  call  being  tied  up  from  sub- 
scribing. "  I  can't  say  but  the  term  is  apt  enough,  and  some- 
what typical,"  said  Adams ;  "  for  a  man  of  large  fortune,  who 
ties  himself  up,  as  you  call  it,  from  the  encouragement  of 
men  of  merit,  ought  to  be  tied  up  in  reality."  Well,  sir,  says 
the  gentleman,  to  return  to  my  story.  Sometimes  I  have 
received  a  guinea  from  a  man  of  quality,  given  with  as 
ill  a  grace  as  alms  are  generally  to  the  meanest  beggar ;  and 
purchased  too  with  as  much  time  spent  in  attendance  as,  if 

192 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

it  had  been  spent  in  honest  industry,  might  have  brought 
me  more  profit  with  infinitely  more  satisfaction.  After  about 
two  months  spent  in  this  disagreeable  way,  with  the  ut- 
most mortification,  when  I  was  pluming  my  hopes  on  the 
prospect  of  a  plentiful  harvest  from  my  play,  upon  applying 
to  the  prompter  to  know  when  it  came  into  rehearsal,  he  in- 
formed me  he  had  received  orders  from  the  managers  to 
return  me  the  play  again,  for  that  they  could  not  possibly 
act  it  that  season;  but,  if  I  would  take  it  and  revise  it 
against  the  next,  they  would  be  glad  to  see  it  again.  I 
snatched  it  from  him  with  great  indignation,  and  retired  to 
my  room,  where  I  threw  myself  on  the  bed  in  a  fit  of  despair. 
"  You  should  rather  have  thrown  yourself  on  your  knees," 
says  Adams,  "  for  despair  is  sinful."  As  soon,  continued 
the  gentleman,  as  I  had  indulged  the  first  tumult  of  my 
passion,  I  began  to  consider  coolly  what  course  I  should 
take,  in  a  situation  without  friends,  money,  credit,  or  repu- 
tation of  any  kind.  After  revolving  many  things  in  my 
mind,  I  could  see  no  other  possibility  of  furnishing  myself 
with  the  miserable  necessaries  of  life  than  to  retire  to  a  garret 
near  the  Temple,  and  commence  hackney-writer  to  the  law- 
yers, for  which  I  was  well  qualified,  being  an  excellent  pen- 
man. This  purpose  I  resolved  on,  and  immediately  put  it 
in  execution.  I  had  an  acquaintance  with  an  attorney  who 
had  formerly  transacted  affairs  for  me,  and  to  him  I  applied ; 
but,  instead  of  furnishing  me  with  any  business,  he  laughed 
at  my  undertaking,  and  told  me,  he  was  afraid  I  should  turn 
his  deeds  into  plays,  and  he  should  expect  to  see  them  on 
the  stage.  Not  to  tire  you  with  instances  of  this  kind  from 
others,  I  found  that  Plato  himself  did  not  hold  poets  in 
greater  abhorrence  than  these  men  of  business  do.  When- 
ever I  durst  venture  to  a  coffee-house,  which  was  on  Sundays 
only,  a  whisper  ran  round  the  room,  which  was  constantly 
attended  with  a  sneer — That 's  poet  Wilson ;  for  I  know  not 
whether  you  have  observed  it,  but  there  is  a  malignity  in  the 
nature  of  man,  which,  when  not  weeded  out,  or  at  least  cov- 
ered by  a  good  education  and  politeness,  delights  in  making 
another  uneasy  or  dissatisfied  with  himself.  This  abun- 
dantly appears  in  all  assemblies,  except  those  which  are  filled 

13  i93 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

by  people  of  fashion,  and  especially  among  the  younger  peo- 
ple of  both  sexes  whose  birth  and  fortunes  place  them  just 
without  the  polite  circles ;  I  mean  the  lower  class  of  the 
gentry,  and  the  higher  of  the  mercantile  world,  who  are,  in 
reality,  the  worst-bred  part  of  mankind.  Well,  sir,  whilst  I 
continued  in  this  miserable  state,  with  scarce  sufficient  busi- 
ness to  keep  me  from  starving,  the  reputation  of  a  poet  being 
my  bane,  I  accidentally  became  acquainted  with  a  bookseller, 
who  told  me,  it  was  pity  a  man  of  my  learning  and  genius 
should  be  obliged  to  such  a  method  of  getting  his  livelihood ; 
that  he  had  a  compassion  for  me,  and,  if  I  would  engage  with 
him,  he  would  undertake  to  provide  handsomely  for  me.  A 
man  in  my  circumstances,  as  he  very  well  knew,  had  no 
choice.  I  accordingly  accepted  his  proposal  with  his  condi- 
tions, which  were  none  of  the  most  favourable,  and  fell  to 
translating  with  all  my  might.  I  had  no  longer  reason  to 
lament  the  want  of  business ;  for  he  furnished  me  with  so 
much,  that  in  half  a  year  I  almost  writ  myself  blind.  I  like- 
wise contracted  a  distemper  by  my  sedentary  life,  in  which 
no  part  of  my  body  was  exercised  but  my  right  arm,  which 
rendered  me  incapable  of  writing  for  a  long  time.  This  un- 
luckily happening  to  delay  the  publication  of  a  work, 
and  my  last  performance  not  having  sold  well,  the  bookseller 
declined  any  further  engagement,  and  aspersed  me  to  his 
brethren  as  a  careless  idle  fellow.  I  had,  however,  by  hav- 
ing half  worked  and  half  starved  myself  to  death  during  the 
time  I  was  in  his  service,  saved  a  few  guineas,  with  which  I 
bought  a  lottery-ticket,  resolving  to  throw  myself  into  For- 
tune's lap,  and  try  if  she  would  make  me  amends  for  the  in- 
juries she  had  done  me  at  the  gaming-table.  This  pur- 
chase, being  made,  left  me  almost  pennyless ;  when,  as  if  I 
had  not  been  sufficiently  miserable,  a  bailiff  in  woman's 
clothes  got  admittance  to  my  chamber,  whither  he  was  di- 
rected by  the  bookseller.  He  arrested  me  at  my  tailor's  suit 
for  thirty-five  pounds ;  a  sum  for  which  I  could  not  pro- 
cure bail ;  and  was  therefore  conveyed  to  his  house,  where 
I  was  locked  up  in  an  upper  chamber.  I  had  now  neither 
health  (for  I  was  scarce  recovered  from  my  indisposition), 
liberty,   money,  or   friends ;   and   had  abandoned  all   hopes, 

194 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

and  even  the  desire,  of  life.  ;'  But  this  could  not  last  long," 
said  Adams ;  "  for  doubtless  the  tailor  released  you  the  mo- 
ment he  was  truly  acquainted  with  your  affairs,  and  knew 
that  your  circumstances  would  not  permit  you  to  pay  him." 
"  Oh,  sir,"  answered  the  gentleman,  "  he  knew  that  before  he 
arrested  me ;  nay,  he  knew  that  nothing  but  incapacity  could 
prevent  me  paying  my  debts ;  for  I  had  been  his  cus- 
tomer many  years,  had  spent  vast  sums  of  money  with  him, 
and  had  always  paid  most  punctually  in  my  prosperous  days ; 
but  when  I  reminded  him  of  this,  with  assurances  that,  if 
he  would  not  molest  my  endeavours,  I  would  pay  him  all 
the  money  I  could  by  my  utmost  labour  and  industry  pro- 
cure, reserving  only  what  was  sufficient  to  preserve  me  alive, 
he  answered,  his  patience  was  worn  out;  that  I  had  put  him 
off  from  time  to  time ;  that  he  wanted  the  money ;  that  he 
had  put  it  into  a  lawyer's  hands ;  and  if  I  did  not  pay  him 
immediately,  or  find  security,  I  must  lie  in  gaol  and  expect 
no  mercy."  "  He  may  expect  mercy,"  cries  Adams,  starting 
from  his  chair,  "  where  he  will  find  none !  How  can  such  a 
wretch  repeat  the  Lord's  prayer;  where  the  word,  which  is 
translated,  I  know  not  for  what  reason,  trespasses,  is  in  the 
original,  debts?  And  as  surely  as  we  do  not  forgive  others 
their  debts,  when  they  are  unable  to  pay  them,  so  surely 
shall  we  ourselves  be  unforgiven  when  we  are  in  no  condition 
of  paying."  He  ceased,  and  the  gentleman  proceeded.  While 
I  was  in  this  deplorable  situation,  a  former  acquaintance,  to 
whom  I  had  communicated  my  lottery-ticket,  found  me  out, 
and,  making  me  a  visit,  with  great  delight  in  his  counte- 
nance, shook  me  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  wished  me  joy  of 
my  good  fortune :  for,  says  he,  your  ticket  is  come  up  a  prize 
of  3000/.  Adams  snapped  his  fingers  at  these  words  in  an 
ecstasy  of  joy;  which,  however,  did  not  continue  long;  for 
the  gentleman  thus  proceeded : — Alas !  sir,  this  was  only  a 
trick  of  Fortune  to  sink  me  the  deeper ;  for  I  had  disposed  of 
this  lottery-ticket  two  days  before  to  a  relation,  who  refused 
lending  me  a  shilling  without  it,  in  order  to  procure  myself 
bread.  As  soon  as  my  friend  was  acquainted  with  my  un- 
fortunate sale  he  began  to  revile  me  and  remind  me  of  all  the 
ill-conduct  and  miscarriages  of  my  life.     He  said  I  was  one 

195 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

whom  Fortune  could  not  save  if  she  would;  that  I  was  now 
ruined  without  any  hopes  of  retrieval,  nor  must  expect  any 
pity  from  my  friends;  that  it  would  be  extreme  weakness  to 
compassionate  the  misfortunes  of  a  man  who  ran  headlong  to 
his  own  destruction.  He  then  painted  to  me,  in  as  lively 
colours  as  he  was  able,  the  happiness  I  should  have  now  en- 
joyed, had  I  not  foolishly  disposed  of  my  ticket.  I  urged 
the  plea  of  necessity;  but  he  made  no  answer  to  that,  and 
began  again  to  revile  me,  till  I  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and 
desired  him  to  finish  his  visit.  I  soon  exchanged  the  bailiff's 
house  for  a  prison ;  where,  as  I  had  not  money  sufficient  to 
procure  me  a  separate  apartment,  I  was  crowded  in  with  a 
great  number  of  miserable  wretches,  in  common  with  whom 
I  was  destitute  of  every  convenience  of  life,  even  that  which 
all  the  brutes  enjoy,  wholesome  air.  In  these  dreadful  cir- 
cumstances I  applied  by  letter  to  several  of  my  old  acquain- 
tance, and  such  to  whom  I  had  formerly  lent  money  without 
any  great  prospect  of  its  being  returned,  for  their  assistance ; 
but  in  vain.  An  excuse,  instead  of  a  denial,  was  the  gentlest 
answer  I  received.  Whilst  I  languished  in  a  condition  too 
horrible  to  be  described,  and  which,  in  a  land  of  humanity, 
and,  what  is  much  more,  Christianity,  seems  a  strange  pun- 
ishment for  a  little  inadvertency  and  indiscretion;  whilst  I 
was  in  this  condition,  a  fellow  came  into  the  prison,  and,  in- 
quiring me  out,  delivered  me  the  following  letter : — 

"  Sir, — My  father,  to  whom  you  sold  your  ticket  in  the  last 
lottery,  died  the  same  day  in  which  it  came  up  a  prize,  as 
you  have  possibly  heard,  and  left  me  sole  heiress  of  all  his 
fortune.  I  am  so  much  touched  with  your  present  circum- 
stances, and  the  uneasiness  you  must  feel  at  having  been 
driven  to  dispose  of  what  might  have  made  you  happy,  that 
I  must  desire  your  acceptance  of  the  enclosed,  and  am  your 
humble  servant, 

"  Harriet  Hearty." 

And  what  do  you  think  was  enclosed ?  "I  don't  know," 
cried  Adams ;  "  not  less  than  a  guinea,  I  hope."  Sir,  it  was 
a  bank-note  for  200/. — "  200/.  ?  "  says  Adams,  in  a  rapture. 

196 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

No  less,  I  assure  you,  answered  the  gentleman ;  a  sum  I  was 
not  half  so  delighted  with  as  with  the  dear  name  of  the 
generous  girl  that  sent  it  me ;  and  who  was  not  only  the 
best  but  the  handsomest  creature  in  the  universe,  and  for 
whom  I  had  long  had  a  passion  which  I  never  durst  disclose 
to  her.  I  kissed  her  name  a  thousand  times,  my  eyes  over- 
flowing with  tenderness  and  gratitude ;  I  repeated — But  not 
to  detain  you  with  these  raptures,  I  immediately  acquired 
my  liberty ;  and,  having  paid  all  my  debts,  departed,  with  up- 
wards of  fifty  pounds  in  my  pocket,  to  thank  my  kind  deliv- 
erer. She  happened  to  be  then  out  of  town,  a  circumstance 
which,  upon  reflection,  pleased  me ;  for  by  that  means  I  had 
an  opportunity  to  appear  before  her  in  a  more  decent  dress. 
At  her  return  to  town,  within  a  day  or  two,  I  threw  myself 
at  her  feet  with  the  most  ardent  acknowledgments,  which 
she  rejected  with  an  unfeigned  greatness  of  mind,  and  told 
me  I  could  not  oblige  her  more  than  by  never  mentioning, 
or  if  possible  thinking  on,  a  circumstance  which  must  bring 
to  my  mind  an  accident  that  might  be  grievous  to  me  to  think 
on.  She  proceeded  thus  :  "  What  I  have  done  is  in  my  own 
eyes  a  trifle,  and  perhaps  infinitely  less  than  would  have  be- 
come me  to  do.  And  if  you  think  of  engaging  in  any  business 
where  a  larger  sum  may  be  serviceable  to  you,  I  shall  not  be 
over-rigid  either  as  to  the  security  or  interest."  I  endea- 
voured to  express  all  the  gratitude  in  my  power  to  this  pro- 
fusion of  goodness,  though  perhaps  it  was  my  enemy,  and 
began  to  afflict  my  mind  with  more  agonies  than  all  the  mis- 
eries I  had  underwent ;  it  affected  me  with  severer  reflections 
than  poverty,  distress,  and  prisons  united  had  been  able  to 
make  me  feel ;  for,  sir,  these  acts  and  professions  of  kind- 
ness, which  were  sufficient  to  have  raised  in  a  good  heart 
the  most  violent  passion  of  friendship  to  one  of  the  same,  or  to 
age  and  ugliness  in  a  different  sex,  came  to  me  from  a  woman, 
a  young  and  beautiful  woman ;  one  whose  perfections  I  had 
long  known,  and  for  whom  I  had  long  conceived  a  violent 
passion,  though  with  a  despair  which  made  me  endeavour 
rather  to  curb  and  conceal,  than  to  nourish  or  acquaint  her 
with  it.  In  short,  they  came  upon  me  united  with  beauty, 
softness,  and  tenderness :  such  bewitching  smiles ! — O  Mr 
Adams,  in  that  moment  I  lost  myself,  and,  forgetting  our 

197 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

different  situations,  nor  considering  what  return  I  was  mak- 
ing to  her  goodness  by  desiring  her,  who  had  given  me  so 
much,  to  bestow  her  all,  I  laid  gently  hold  on  her  hand,  and, 
conveying  it  to  my  lips,  I  prest  it  with  inconceivable  ardour; 
then,  lifting  up  my  swimming  eyes,  I  saw  her  face  and  neck 
overspread  with  one  blush :  she  offered  to  withdraw  her  hand, 
yet  not  so  as  to  deliver  it  from  mine,  though  I  held  it  with 
the  gentlest  force.  We  both  stood  trembling;  her  eyes  cast 
on  the  ground,  and  mine  stedfastly  fixed  on  her.  Good  God, 
what  was  then  the  condition  of  my  soul !  burning  with  love, 
desire,  admiration,  gratitude,  and  every  tender  passion,  all 
bent  on  one  charming  object.  Passion  at  last  got  the  better 
of  both  reason  and  respect,  and,  softly  letting  go  her  hand, 
I  offered  madly  to  clasp  her  in  my  arms ;  when,  a  little  re- 
covering herself,  she  started  from  me,  asking  me,  with  some 
show  of  anger,  if  she  had  any  reason  to  expect  this  treatment 
from  me.  I  then  fell  prostrate  before  her,  and  told  her,  if 
I  had  offended,  my  life  was  absolutely  in  her  power,  which 
I  would  in  any  manner  lose  for  her  sake.  Nay,  madam,  said 
I,  you  shall  not  be  so  ready  to  punish  me  as  I  to  suffer.  I  own 
my  guilt.  I  detest  the  reflection  that  I  would  have  sacrificed 
your  happiness  to  mine.  Believe  me,  I  sincerely  repent  my 
ingratitude ;  yet,  believe  me  too,  it  was  my  passion,  my  un- 
bounded passion  for  you,  which  hurried  me  so  far :  I  have 
loved  you  long  and  tenderly,  and  the  goodness  you  have  shown 
me  hath  innocently  weighed  down  a  wretch  undone  before. 
Acquit  me  of  all  mean,  mercenary  views ;  and,  before  I  take 
my  leave  of  you  for  ever,  which  I  am  resolved  instantly  to  do, 
believe  me  that  Fortune  could  have  raised  me  to  no  height 
to  which  I  could  not  have  gladly  lifted  you.  O,  curst  be 
Fortune ! — "  Do  not,"  says  she,  interrupting  me  with  the 
sweetest  voice,  "  do  not  curse  Fortune,  since  she  hath  made 
me  happy ;  and,  if  she  hath  put  your  happiness  in  my 
power,  I  have  told  you  you  shall  ask  nothing  in  reason  which 
I  will  refuse."  Madam,  said  I,  you  mistake  me  if  you  im- 
agine, as  you  seem,  my  happiness  is  in  the  power  of  Fortune 
now.  You  have  obliged  me  too  much  already ;  if  I  have  any 
wish,  it  is  for  some  blest  accident,  by  which  I  may  contribute 
with  my  life  to  the  least  augmentation  of  your  felicity.  As 
for  myself,  the  only  happiness  I  can  ever  have  will  be  hear- 

198 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

ing  of  yours ;  and  if  Fortune  will  make  that  complete,  I  will 
forgive  her  all  her  wrongs  to  me.  "  You  may,  indeed,"  an- 
swered she,  smiling,  "  for  your  own  happiness  must  be  in- 
cluded in  mine.  I  have  long  known  your  worth ;  nay,  I  must 
confess,"  said  she,  blushing,  "  I  have  long  discovered  that 
passion  for  me  you  profess,  notwithstanding  those  endeavours, 
which  I  am  convinced  were  unaffected,  to  conceal  it ;  and  if 
all  I  can  give  with  reason  will  not  suffice,  take  reason  away; 

and  now  I  believe  you  cannot  ask  me  what  I  will  deny." 

She  uttered  these  words  with  a  sweetness  not  to  be  imagined. 
I  immediately  started ;  my  blood,  which  lay  freezing  at  my 
heart,  rushed  tumultuously  through  every  vein.  I  stood  for 
a  moment  silent ;  then,  flying  to  her,  I  caught  her  in  my  arms, 
no  longer  resisting,  and  softly  told  her  she  must  give  me  then 
herself.  O,  sir !  can  I  describe  her  look  ?  She  remained 
silent,  and  almost  motionless,  several  minutes.  At  last,  re- 
covering herself  a  little,  she  insisted  on  my  leaving  her,  and 
in  such  a  manner  that  I  instantly  obeyed :  you  may  imagine, 
however,  I  soon  saw  her  again. — But  I  ask  pardon :  I  fear 
I  have  detained  you  too  long  in  relating  the  particulars  of  the 
former  interview.  "  So  far  otherwise,"  said  Adams,  licking 
his  lips,  "  that  I  could  willingly  hear  it  over  again."  Well, 
sir,  continued  the  gentleman,  to  be  as  concise  as  possible, 
within  a  week  she  consented  to  make  me  the  happiest  of  man- 
kind. We  were  married  shortly  after ;  and  when  I  came  to 
examine  the  circumstances  of  my  wife's  fortune  (which,  I 
do  assure  you,  I  was  not  presently  at  leisure  enough  to  do), 
I  found  it  amounted  to  about  six  thousand  pounds,  most  part 
of  which  lay  in  effects ;  for  her  father  had  been  a  wine  mer- 
chant, and  she  seemed  willing,  if  I  liked  it,  that  I  should  carry 
on  the  same  trade.  I  readily,  and  too  inconsiderately,  un- 
dertook it ;  for,  not  having  been  bred  up  to  the  secrets  of  the 
business,  and  endeavouring  to  deal  with  the  utmost  honesty 
and  uprightness,  I  soon  found  our  fortune  in  a  declining  way, 
and  my  trade  decreasing  by  little  and  little ;  for  my  wines, 
which  I  never  adulterated  after  their  importation,  and  were 
sold  as  neat  as  they  came  over,  were  universally  decried  by 
the  vintners,  to  whom  I  could  not  allow  them  quite  as  cheap 
as  those  who  gained  double  the  profit  by  a  less  price.  I  soon 
began  to  despair  of  improving  our  fortune  by  these  means; 

199 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

nor  was  I  at  all  easy  at  the  visits  and  familiarity  of  many  who 
had  been  my  acquaintance  in  my  prosperity,  but  had  denied 
and  shunned  me  in  my  adversity,  and  now  very  forwardly 
renewed  their  acquaintance  with  me.  In  short,  I  had  suffi- 
ciently seen  that  the  pleasures  of  the  world  are  chiefly  folly, 
and  the  business  of  it  mostly  knavery,  and  both  nothing  better 
than  vanity ;  the  men  of  pleasure  tearing  one  another  to  pieces 
from  the  emulation  of  spending  money,  and  the  men  of  busi- 
ness from  envy  in  getting  it.  My  happiness  consisted  en- 
tirely in  my  wife,  whom  I  loved  with  an  inexpressible  fond- 
ness, which  was  perfectly  returned ;  and  my  prospects  were 
no  other  than  to  provide  for  our  growing  family ;  for  she  was 
now  big  of  her  second  child :  I  therefore  took  an  opportunity 
to  ask  her  opinion  of  entering  into  a  retired  life,  which,  after 
hearing  my  reasons  and  perceiving  my  affection  for  it,  she 
readily  embraced.  We  soon  put  our  small  fortune,  now  re- 
duced under  three  thousand  pounds,  into  money,  with  part 
of  which  we  purchased  this  little  place,  whither  we  retired 
soon  after  her  delivery,  from  a  world  full  of  bustle,  noise, 
hatred,  envy,  and  ingratitude,  to  ease,  quiet,  and  love.  We 
have  here  lived  almost  twenty  years,  with  little  other  conver- 
sation than  our  own,  most  of  the  neighbourhood  taking  us  for 
very  strange  people ;  the  squire  of  the  parish  representing  me 
as  a  madman,  and  the  parson  as  a  presbyterian,  because  I 
will  not  hunt  with  the  one  nor  drink  with  the  other.  "  Sir," 
says  Adams,  "  Fortune  hath,  I  think,  paid  you  all  her  debts 
in  this  sweet  retirement."  Sir,  replied  the  gentleman,  I  am 
thankful  to  the  great  Author  of  all  things  for  the  blessings  I 
here  enjoy.  I  have  the  best  of  wives,  and  three  pretty  chil- 
dren, for  whom  I  have  the  true  tenderness  of  a  parent.  But 
no  blessings  are  pure  in  this  world :  within  three  years  of 
my  arrival  here  I  lost  my  eldest  son.  (Here  he  sighed  bit- 
terly.) "  Sir,"  says  Adams,  "we  must  submit  to  Providence, 
and  consider  death  as  common  to  all."  We  must  submit,  in- 
deed, answered  the  gentleman ;  and  if  he  had  died  I  could 
have  borne  the  loss  with  patience ;  but  alas !  sir,  he  was  stolen 
away  from  my  door  by  some  wicked  travelling  people  whom 
they  call  gipsies;  nor  could  I  ever,  with  the  most  diligent 
search,  recover  him.  Poor  child !  he  had  the  sweetest  look — 
the  exact  picture  of  his  mother ;  at  which  some  tears  unwit- 

200 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

tingly  dropt  from  his  eyes,  as  did  likewise  from  those  of 
Adams,  who  always  sympathized  with  his  friends  on  those  oc- 
casions. Thus,  sir,  said  the  gentleman,  I  have  finished  my 
story,  in  which  if  I  have  been  too  particular,  I  ask  your  par- 
don ;  and  now,  if  you  please,  I  will  fetch  you  another  bottle : 
which  proposal  the  parson  thankfully  accepted. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

A  DESCRIPTION    OF    MR   WILSON'S    WAY    OF    LIVING.      THE   TRA- 
GICAL ADVENTURE  OF  THE  DOG,  AND  OTHER  GRAVE  MATTERS. 

THE  gentleman  returned  with  the  bottle ;  and  Adams  and 
he  sat  some  time  silent,  when  the  former  started  up, 
and  cried,  "  No,  that  won't  do."  The  gentleman  inquired  into 
his  meaning;  he  answered,  he  had  been  considering  that  it 
was  possible  the  late  famous  king  Theodore  might  have  been 
that  very  son  whom  he  had  lost;  but  added,  that  his  age 
could  not  answer  that  imagination.  However,  says  he,  "  God 
disposes  all  things  for  the  best;  and  very  probably  he  may 
be  some  great  man,  or  duke,  and  may,  one  day  or  other, 
revisit  you  in  that  capacity."  The  gentleman  answered,  he 
should  know  him  amongst  ten  thousand,  for  he  had  a  mark 
on  his  left  breast  of  a  strawberry,  which  his  mother  had  given 
him  by  longing  for  that  fruit. 

That  beautiful  young  lady  the  Morning  now  rose  from  her 
bed,  and  with  a  countenance  blooming  with  fresh  youth  and 
sprightliness,  like  Miss  — *,  with  soft  dews  hanging  on  her 
pouting  lips,  began  to  take  her  early  walk  over  the  eastern 
hills ;  and  presently  after,  that  gallant  person  the  Sun  stole 
softly  from  his  wife's  chamber  to  pay  his  addresses  to  her ; 
when  the  gentleman  asked  his  guest  if  he  would  walk  forth 
and  survey  his  little  garden ;  which  he  readily  agreed  to ;  and 
Joseph,  at  the  same  time  awaking  from  a  sleep  in  which  he 
had  been  two  hours  buried,  went  with  them.  No  parterres, 
no  fountains,  no  statues,  embellished  this  little  garden.  Its 
only  ornament  was  a  short  walk,  shaded  on  each  side  by  a 
*  Whoever  the  reader  pleases. 

20 1  ^\t 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

filbert-hedge,  with  a  small  alcove  at  one  end,  whither  in  hot 
weather  the  gentleman  and  his  wife  used  to  retire  and  divert 
themselves  with  their  children,  who  played  in  the  walk  be- 
fore them.  But,  though  vanity  had  no  votary  in  this  little 
spot,  here  was  variety  of  fruit  and  everything  useful  for  the 
kitchen,  which  was  abundantly  sufficient  to  catch  the  admira- 
tion of  Adams,  who  told  the  gentleman  he  had  certainly  a 
good  gardener.  Sir,  answered  he,  that  gardener  is  now  before 
you :  whatever  you  see  here  is  the  work  solely  of  my  own 
hands.  Whilst  I  am  providing  necessaries  for  my  table,  I 
likewise  procure  myself  an  appetite  for  them.  In  fair  seasons 
I  seldom  pass  less  than  six  hours  of  the  twenty-four  in  this 
place,  where  I  am  not  idle ;  and  by  these  means  I  have  been 
able  to  preserve  my  health  ever  since  my  arrival  here,  with- 
out assistance  from  physic.  Hither  I  generally  repair  at  the 
dawn,  and  exercise  myself  whilst  my  wife  dresses  her  children 
and  prepares  our  breakfast ;  after  which  we  are  seldom  asun- 
der during  the  residue  of  the  day,  for,  when  the  weather  will 
not  permit  them  to  accompany  me  here,  I  am  usually  within 
with  them ;  for  I  am  neither  ashamed  of  conversing  with  my 
wife  nor  of  playing  with  my  children :  to  say  the  truth,  I  do 
not  perceive  that  inferiority  of  understanding  which  the  levity 
of  rakes,  the  dullness  of  men  of  business,  or  the  austerity  of  the 
learned,  would  persuade  us  of  in  women.  As  for  my  woman, 
I  declare  I  have  found  none  of  my  own  sex  capable  of  making 
juster  observations  on  life,  or  of  delivering  them  more  agree- 
ably; nor  do  I  believe  any  one  possessed  of  a  faithfuller  or 
braver  friend.  And  sure  as  this  friendship  is  sweetened  with 
more  delicacy  and  tenderness,  so  is  it  confirmed  by  dearer 
pledges  than  can  attend  the  closest  male  alliance ;  for  what 
union  can  be  so  fast  as  our  common  interests  in  the  fruits 
of  our  embraces?  Perhaps,  sir,  you  are  not  yourself  a  father; 
if  you  are  not,  be  assured  you  cannot  conceive  the  delight 
I  have  in  my  little  ones.  Would  you  not  despise  me  if  you 
saw  me  stretched  on  the  ground,  and  my  children  playing 
round  me ?  "I  should  reverence  the  sight,"  quoth  Adams ; 
'  I  myself  am  now  the  father  of  six,  and  have  been  of  eleven, 
and  I  can  say  I  never  scourged  a  child  of  my  own,  unless  as 
his  schoolmaster,  and  then  have  felt  every  stroke  on  my  own 
posteriors.     And  as  to  what  you  say  concerning  women,  I 

202 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

have  often  lamented  my  own  wife  did  not  understand  Greek." 
— The  gentleman  smiled,  and  answered,  he  would  not  be  appre- 
hended to  insinuate  that  his  own  had  an  understanding  above 
the  care  of  her  family;  on  the  contrary,  says  he,  my  Harriet, 
I  assure  you,  is  a  notable  housewife,  and  the  housekeepers 
of  few  gentlemen  understand  cookery  or  confectionery  better; 
but  these  are  arts  which  she  hath  no  great  occasion  for  now  : 
however,  the  wine  you  commended  so  much  last  night  at 
supper  was  of  her  own  making,  as  is  indeed  all  the  liquor 
in  my  house,  except  my  beer,  which  falls  to  my  province. 
"  And  I  assure  you  it  is  as  excellent,"  quoth  Adams,  "  as  ever 
I  tasted."  We  formerly  kept  a  maid-servant,  but  since  my 
girls  have  been  growing  up  she  is  unwilling  to  indulge  them 
in  idleness ;  for  as  the  fortunes  I  shall  give  them  will  be  very 
small,  we  intend  not  to  breed  them  above  the  rank  they  are 
likely  to  fill  hereafter,  nor  to  teach  them  to  despise  or  ruin 
a  plain  husband.  Indeed,  I  could  wish  a  man  of  my  own 
temper,  and  a  retired  life,  might  fall  to  their  lot ;  for  I  have 
experienced  that  calm  serene  happiness,  which  is  seated  in 
content,  is  inconsistent  with  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  the  world. 
He  was  proceeding  thus  when  the  little  things,  being  just 
risen,  ran  eagerly  towards  him  and  asked  him  blessing.  They 
were  shy  to  the  strangers,  but  the  eldest  acquainted  her  father, 
that  her  mother  and  the  young  gentlewoman  were  up,  and 
that  breakfast  was  ready.  They  all  went  in,  where  the  gentle- 
man was  surprized  at  the  beauty  of  Fanny,  who  had  now  re- 
covered herself  from  her  fatigue,  and  was  entirely  clean  drest ; 
for  the  rogues  who  had  taken  away  her  purse  had  left  her  her 
bundle.  But  if  he  was  so  much  amazed  at  the  beauty  of  this 
young  creature,  his  guests  were  no  less  charmed  at  the  ten- 
derness which  appeared  in  the  behaviour  of  the  husband  and 
wife  to  each  other,  and  to  their  children,  and  at  the  dutiful 
and  affectionate  behaviour  of  these  to  their  parents.  These 
instances  pleased  the  well-disposed  mind  of  Adams  equally 
with  the  readiness  which  they  exprest  to  oblige  their  guests, 
and  their  forwardness  to  offer  them  the  best  of  everything 
in  their  house ;  and  what  delighted  him  still  more  was  an 
instance  or  two  of  their  charity  ;  for  whilst  they  were  at  break- 
fast the  good  woman  was  called  for  to  assist  her  sick  neigh- 
bour, which  she  did  with  some  cordials  made  for  the  public 

203 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

use,  and  the  good  man  went  into  his  garden  at  the  same  time 
to  supply  another  with  something  which  he  wanted  thence, 
for  they  had  nothing  which  those  who  wanted  it  were  not 
welcome  to.  These  good  people  were  in  the  utmost  cheer- 
fulness, when  they  heard  the  report  of  a  gun,  and  immediately 
afterwards  a  little  dog,  the  favourite  of  the  eldest  daughter, 
came  limping  in  all  bloody  and  laid  himself  at  his  mistress's 
feet:  the  poor  girl,  who  was  about  eleven  years  old,  burst 
into  tears  at  the  sight;  and  presently  one  of  the  neighbours 
came  in  and  informed  them  that  the  young  squire,  the  son  of 
the  lord  of  the  manor,  had  shot  him  as  he  passed  by,  swearing 
at  the  same  time  he  would  prosecute  the  master  of  him  for 
keeping  a  spaniel,  for  that  he  had  given  notice  he  would  not 
suffer  one  in  the  parish.  The  dog,  whom  his  mistress  had 
taken  into  her  lap,  died  in  a  few  minutes,  licking  her  hand. 
She  exprest  great  agony  at  her  loss,  and  the  other  children 
began  to  cry  for  their  sister's  misfortune;  nor  could  Fanny 
herself  refrain.  Whilst  the  father  and  mother  attempted  to 
comfort  her,  Adams  grasped  his  crabstick  and  would  have 
sallied  out  after  the  squire  had  not  Joseph  withheld  him.  He 
could  not  however  bridle  his  tongue — he  pronounced  the 
word  rascal  with  great  emphasis;  said  he  deserved  to  be 
hanged  more  than  a  highwayman,  and  wished  he  had  the 
scourging  him.  The  mother  took  her  child,  lamenting  and 
carrying  the  dead  favourite  in  her  arms,  out  of  the  room, 
when  the  gentleman  said  this  was  the  second  time  this  squire 
had  endeavoured  to  kill  the  little  wretch,  and  had  wounded 
him  smartly  once  before;  adding,  he  could  have  no  motive 
but  ill-nature,  for  the  little  thing,  which  was  not  near  as  big 
as  one's  fist,  had  never  been  twenty  yards  from  the  house  in 
the  six  years  his  daughter  had  had  it.  He  said  he  had  done 
nothing  to  deserve  this  usage,  but  his  father  had  too  great 
a  fortune  to  contend  with:  that  he  was  as  absolute  as  any 
tyrant  in  the  universe,  and  had  killed  all  the  dogs  and  taken 
away  all  the  guns  in  the  neighbourhood ;  and  not  only  that, 
but  he  trampled  down  hedges  and  rode  over  corn  and  gardens, 
with  no  more  regard  than  if  they  were  the  highway.  "  I 
wish  I  could  catch  him  in  my  garden,"  said  Adams,  "though 
I  would  rather  forgive  him  riding  through  my  house  than 
such  an  ill-natured  act  as  this." 

204 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

The  cheerfulness  of  their  conversation  being  interrupted 
by  this  accident,  in  which  the  guests  could  be  of  no  service 
to  their  kind  entertainer;  and  as  the  mother  was  taken  up  in 
administering  consolation  to  the  poor  girl,  whose  disposition 
was  too  good  hastily  to  forget  the  sudden  loss  of  her  little  fa- 
vourite, which  had  been  fondling  with  her  a  few  minutes 
before ;  and  as  Joseph  and  Fanny  were  impatient  to  get  home 
and  begin  those  previous  ceremonies  to  their  happiness  which 
Adams  had  insisted  on,  they  now  offered  to  take  their  leave. 
The  gentleman  importuned  them  much  to  stay  dinner ;  but 
when  he  found  their  eagerness  to  depart  he  summond  his 
wife;  and  accordingly,  having  performed  all  the  usual  cere- 
monies of  bows  and  curtsies  more  pleasant  to  be  seen  than  to 
be  related,  they  took  their  leave,  the  gentleman  and  his  wife 
heartily  wishing  them  a  good  journey,  and  they  as  heartily 
thanking  them  for  their  kind  entertainment.  They  then  de- 
parted, Adams  declaring  that  this  was  the  manner  in  which 
the  people  had  lived  in  the  golden  age. 


CHAPTER   V. 


A  DISPUTATION  ON  SCHOOLS  HELD  ON  THE  ROAD  BY  MR  ABRA- 
HAM ADAMS  AND  JOSEPH  ;  AND  A  DISCOVERY  NOT  UNWEL- 
COME TO  THEM  BOTH. 

OUR  travellers,  having  well  refreshed  themselves  at  the 
gentleman's  house,  Joseph  and  Fanny  with  sleep,  and 
Mr  Abraham  Adams  with  ale  and  tobacco,  renewed  their  jour- 
ney with  great  alacrity;  and,  pursuing  the  road  into  which 
they  were  directed,  travelled  many  miles  before  they  met  with 
any  adventure  worth  relating.  In  this  interval  we  shall  pre- 
sent our  readers  with  a  very  curious  discourse,  as  we  appre- 
hend it,  concerning  public  schools,  which  passed  between  Mr 
Joseph  Andrews  and  Mr  Abraham  Adams. 

They  had  not  gone  far  before  Adams,  calling  to  Joseph, 
asked  him,  if  he  had  attended  to  the  gentleman's  story?  he 
answered,  to  all  the  former  part.  "  And  don't  you  think," 
says  he,  "  he  was  a  very  unhappy  man  in  his  youth  ?  " — "  A 

205 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

very  unhappy  man,  indeed,"  answered  the  other.  "  Joseph," 
cries  Adams,  screwing  up  his  mouth,  "  I  have  found  it ;  I 
have  discovered  the  cause  of  all  the  misfortunes  which  befel 
him :  a  public  school,  Joseph,  was  the  cause  of  all  the  calam- 
ities which  he  afterwards  suffered.  Public  schools  are  the 
nurseries  of  all  vice  and  immorality.  All  the  wicked  fellows 
whom  I  remember  at  the  university  were  bred  at  them. — 
Ah,  Lord !  I  can  remember  as  well  as  if  it  was  but  yesterday, 
a  knot  of  them ;  they  called  them  King's  scholars,  I  forget 

why very  wicked   fellows !     Joseph,   you  may  thank  the 

Lord  you  were  not  bred  at  a  public  school ;  you  would  never 
have  preserved  your  virtue  as  you  have.  The  first  care  I 
always  take  is  of  a  boy's  morals ;  I  had  rather  he  should  be 
a  blockhead  than  an  atheist  or  a  presbyterian.  What  is  all 
the  learning  in  the  world  compared  to  his  immortal  soul? 
What  shall  a  man  take  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ?  .  But  the 
masters  of  great  schools  trouble  themselves  about  no  such 
thing.  I  have  known  a  lad  of  eighteen  at  the  university,  who 
hath  not  been  able  to  say  his  catechism ;  but  for  my  own  part, 
I  always  scourged  a  lad  sooner  for  missing  that  than  any 
other  lesson.  Believe  me,  child,  all  that  gentleman's  mis- 
fortunes arose  from  his  being  educated  at  a  public  school." 

"  It  doth  not  become  me,"  answered  Joseph,  "  to  dispute 
anything,  sir,  with  you,  especially  a  matter  of  this  kind;  for 
to  be  sure  you  must  be  allowed  by  all  the  world  to  be  the 
best  teacher  of  a  school  in  all  our  county."  "  Yes,  that,"  says 
Adams,  "  I  believe,  is  granted  me ;  that  I  may  without  much 
vanity  pretend  to — nay,  I  believe  I  may  go  to  the  next 
county  too — but  gloriari  non  est  meum." — "  However,  sir, 
as  you  are  pleased  to  bid  me  speak,"  says  Joseph,  "  you 
know  my  late  master,  Sir  Thomas  Booby,  was  bred  at  a 
public  school,  and  he  was  the  finest  gentleman  in  all  the 
neighbourhood.  And  I  have  often  heard  him  say,  if  he  had  a 
hundred  boys  he  would  breed  them  all  at  the  same  place.  It 
was  of  his  opinion,  and  I  have  often  heard  him  deliver  it,  that 
a  boy  taken  from  a  public  school  and  carried  into  the  world, 
will  learn  more  in  one  year  there  than  one  of  a  private  educa- 
tion will  in  five.  He  used  to  say  the  school  itself  initiated 
him  a  great  way  (I  remember  that  was  his  very  expression), 
for  great  schools  are  little  societies,  where  a  boy  of  any  ob- 

206 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

servation  may  see  in  epitome  what  he  will  afterwards  find  in 
the  world  at  large." — "  Hinc  ilia  lachryuuc:  for  that  very  rea- 
son," quoth  Adams,  "  I  prefer  a  private  school,  where  boys 
may  be.  kept  in  innocence  and  ignorance :  for,  according  to 
that  fine  passage  in  the  play  of  Cato,  the  only  English  tragedy 
I  ever  read, 

"  I  f  knowledge  of  the  world  must  make  men  villains, 
May  Juba  ever  live  in  ignorance !  " 

Who  would  not  rather  preserve  the  purity  of  his  child  than 
wish  him  to  attain  the  whole  circle  of  arts  and  sciences? 
which,  by  the  bye,  he  may  learn  in  the  classes  of  a  private 
school ;  for  I  would  not  be  vain,  but  I  esteem  myself  to  be 
second  to  none,  nalli  secundum,  in  teaching  these  things ;  so 
that  a  lad  may  have  as  much  learning  in  a  private  as  in  a  pub- 
lic education." — "  And,  with  submission,"  answered  Joseph, 
"  he  may  get  as  much  vice :  witness  several  country  gentle- 
men, who  were  educated  within  five  miles  of  their  own  houses, 
and  are  as  wicked  as  if  they  had  known  the  world  from  their 
infancy.  I  remember  when  I  was  in  the  stable,  if  a  young 
horse  was  vicious  in  his  nature,  no  correction  would  make 
him  otherwise :  I  take  it  to  be  equally  the  same  among  men  : 
if  a  boy  be  of  a  mischievous  wicked  inclination,  no  school, 
though  ever  so  private,  will  ever  make  him  good :  on  the 
contrary,  if  he  be  of  a  righteous  temper,  you  may  trust  him  to 
London,  or  wherever  else  you  please — he  will  be  in  no  clanger 
of  being  corrupted.  Besides,  I  have  often  heard  my  master 
say  that  the  discipline  practised  in  public  schools  was  much 
better  than  that  in  private." — "  You  talk  like  a  jackanapes," 
says  Adams,  "and  so  did  your  master.  Discipline  indeed! 
because  one  man  scourges  twenty  or  thirty  boys  more  in  a 
morning  than  another,  is  he  therefore  a  better  disciplinarian  ? 
I  do  presume  to  confer  in  this  point  with  all  who  have  taught 
from  Chiron's  time  to  this  day;  and,  if  T  was  master  of  six 
boys  only,  I  would  preserve  as  good  discipline  amongst  them 
as  the  master  of  the  greatest  school  in  the  world.  I  say  no- 
thing, young  man  ;  remember  I  say  nothing ;  but  if  Sir  Thomas 
himself  had  been  educated  nearer  home,  and  under  the  tuition 
of  somebody — remember,  I  name  nobody — it  might  have  been 

207 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

better  for  him : — but  his  father  must  institute  him  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  world.  Nemo  mortalium  omnibus  horis 
sapit"  Joseph,  seeing  him  run  on  in  this  manner,  asked  par- 
don many  times,  assuring  him  he  had  no  intention  to  offend. 
"  I  believe  you  had  not,  child,"  said  he,  "  and  I  am  not  angry 
with  you :  but  for  maintaining  good  discipline  in  a  school ;  for 
this." — And  then  he  ran  on  as  before,  named  all  the  masters 
who  are  recorded  in  old  books,  and  preferred  himself  to  them 
all.  Indeed,  if  this  good  man  had  an  enthusiasm,  or  what  the 
vulgar  call  a  blind  side,  it  was  this  :  he  thought  a  schoolmaster 
the  greatest  character  in  the  world,  and  himself  the  greatest 
of  all  schoolmasters :  neither  of  which  points  he  would  have 
given  up  to  Alexander  the  Great  at  the  head  of  his  army. 

Adams  continued  his  subject  till  they  came  to  one  of  the 
beautifullest  spots  of  ground  in  the  universe.  It  was  a  kind 
of  natural  amphitheatre  formed  by  the  winding  of  a  small 
rivulet,  which  was  planted  with  thick  woods ;  and  the  trees 
rose  gradually  above  each  other,  by  the  natural  ascent  of  the 
ground  they  stood  on ;  which  ascent  as  they  hid  with  their 
boughs,  they  seemed  to  have  been  disposed  by  the  design  of 
the  most  skilful  planter.  The  soil  was  spread  with  a  verdure 
which  no  paint  could  imitate :  and  the  whole  place  might 
have  raised  romantic  ideas  in  elder  minds  than  those  of  Jo- 
seph and  Fanny,  without  the  assistance  of  love. 

Here  they  arrived  about  noon,  and  Joseph  proposed  to 
Adams  that  they  should  rest  awhile  in  this  delightful  place, 
and  refresh  themselves  with  some  provisions  which  the  good- 
nature of  Mrs  Wilson  had  provided  them  with.  Adams  made 
no  objection  to  the  proposal;  so  down  they  sat,  and,  pulling 
out  a  cold  fowl  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  they  made  a  repast  with 
a  cheerfulness  which  might  have  attracted  the  envy  of  more 
splendid  tables.  I  should  not  omit  that  they  found  among 
their  provision  a  little  paper  containing  a  piece  of  gold,  which 
Adams  imagining  had  been  put  there  by  mistake,  would  have 
returned  back  to  restore  it ;  but  he  was  at  last  convinced  by 
Joseph  that  Mr  Wilson  had  taken  this  handsome  way  of 
furnishing  them  with  a  supply  for  their  journey,  on  his  having 
related  the  distress  which  they  had  been  in,  when  they  were 
relieved  by  the  generosity  of  the  pedlar.  Adams  said  he  was 
glad  to  see  such  an  instance  of  goodness,  not  so  much  for 

208 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

the  conveniency  which  it  brought  them  as  for  the  sake  of  the 
doer,  whose  reward  would  be  great  in  heaven.  He  likewise 
comforted  himself  with  a  reflection  that  he  should  shortly 
have  an  opportunity  of  returning  it  him;  for  the  gentleman 
was  within  a  week  to  make  a  journey  into  Somersetshire,  to 
pass  through  Adam's  parish,  and  had  faithfully  promised 
to  call  on  him ;  a  circumstance  which  we  thought  too  imma- 
terial to  mention  before ;  but  which  those  who  have  as  great 
an  affection  for  that  gentleman  as  ourselves  will  rejoice  at, 
as  it  may  give  them  hopes  of  seeing  him  again.  Then  Joseph 
made  a  speech  on  charity,  which  the  reader,  if  he  is  so  dis- 
posed, may  see  in  the  next  chapter ;  for  we  scorn  to  betray 
him  into  any  such  reading  without  first  giving  him  warning. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MORAL  REFLECTIONS  BY  JOSEPH   ANDREWS;   WITH   THE  HUNT- 
ING ADVENTURE,  AND  PARSON  ADAMS'S  MIRACULOUS  ESCAPE. 

I  HAVE  often  wondered,  sir,"  said  Joseph,  "  to  observe  so 
few  instances  of  charity  among  mankind ;  for  though  the 
goodness  of  a  man's  heart  did  not  incline  him  to  relieve  the 
distresses  of  his  fellow-creatures,  methinks  the  desire  of  hon- 
our should  move  him  to  it.  What  inspires  a  man  to  build  fine 
houses,  to  purchase  fine  furniture,  pictures,  clothes,  and  other 
things,  at  a  great  expense,  but  an  ambition  to  be  respected 
more  than  other  people?  Now,  would  not  one  great  act  of 
charity,  one  instance  of  redeeming  a  poor  family  from  all 
the  miseries  of  poverty,  restoring  an  unfortunate  tradesman 
by  a  sum  of  money  to  the  means  of  procuring  a  livelihood 
by  his  industry,  discharging  an  undone  debtor  from  his  debts 
or  a  gaol,  or  any  such-like  example  of  goodness,  create  a 
man  more  honour  and  respect  than  he  could  acquire  by  the 
finest  house,  furniture,  pictures,  or  clothes,  that  were  ever 
beheld?  for  not  only  the  object  himself  who  was  thus  relieved, 
but  all  who  heard  the  name  of  such  a  person,  must,  I  imagine, 
reverence  him  infinitely  more  than  the  possessor  of  all  those 
other  things ;  which,  when  we  so  admire,  we  rather  praise  the 
14  209 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

builder,  the  workman,  the  painter,  the  lace-maker,  the  tailor, 
and  the  rest,  by  whose  ingenuity  they  are  produced,  than  the 
person  who  by  his  money  makes  them  his  own.  For  my  own 
part,  when  I  have  waited  behind  my  lady  in  a  room  hung 
with  fine  pictures,  while  I  have  been  looking  at  them  I 
have  never  once  thought  of  their  owner,  nor  hath  any  one 
else,  as  I  ever  observed;  for  when  it  hath  been  asked  whose 
picture  that  was,  it  was  never  once  answered  the  master's  of 
the  house ;  but  Ammyconni,  Paul  Varnish,  Hannibal  Scratch!, 
or  Hogarthi,  which  I  suppose  were  the  names  of  the  painters ; 
but  if  it  was  asked — Who  redeemed  such  a  one  out  of  prison? 
Who  lent  such  a  ruined  tradesman  money  to  set  up?  Who 
clothed  that  family  of  poor  small  children?  it  is  very  plain 
what  must  be  the  answer.  And  besides,  these  great  folks  are 
mistaken  if  they  imagine  they  get  any  honour  at  all  by  these 
means;  for  I  do  not  remember  I  ever  was  with  my  lady  at 
any  house  where  she  commended  the  house  or  furniture  but 
I  have  heard  her  at  her  return  home  make  sport  and  jeer 
at  whatever  she  had  before  commended ;  and  I  have  been  told 
by  other  gentlemen  in  livery  that  it  is  the  same  in  their  fam- 
ilies :  but  I  defy  the  wisest  man  in  the  world  to  turn  a  true 
good  action  into  ridicule.  I  defy  him  to  do  it.  He  who  should 
endeavour  it  would  be  laughed  at  himself,  instead  of  making 
others  laugh.  Nobody  scarce  doth  any  good,  yet  they  all 
agree  in  praising  those  who  do.  Indeed,  it  is  strange  that  all 
men  should  consent  in  commending  goodness,  and  no  man 
endeavour  to  deserve  that  commendation ;  whilst,  on  the  con- 
trary, all  rail  at  wickedness,  and  all  are  as  eager  to  be  what 
they  abuse.  This  I  know  not  the  reason  of ;  but  it  is  as  plain  as 
daylight  to  those  who  converse  in  the  world,  as  I  have  done 
these  three  years."  "Are  all  the  great  folks  wicked  then?" 
says  Fanny.  "  To  be  sure  there  are  some  exceptions,"  an- 
swered Joseph.  "  Some  gentlemen  of  our  cloth  report  char- 
itable actions  done  by  their  lords  and  masters;  and  I  have 
heard  Squire  Pope,  the  great  poet,  at  my  lady's  table,  tell 
stories  of  a  man  that  lived  at  a  place  called  Ross,  and  an- 
other at  the  Bath,  one  Al — Al — I  forget  his  name,  but  it  is 
in  the  book  of  verses.  This  gentleman  hath  built  up  a  stately 
house  too,  which  the  squire  likes  very  well ;  but  his  charity 
is  seen  farther  than  his  house,  though  it  stands  on  a  hill, — 

210 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

aye,  and  brings  him  more  honour  too.  It  was  his  charity  that 
put  him  in  the  book,  where  the  squire  says  he  puts  all  those 
who  deserve  it ;  and  to  be  sure,  as  he  lives  among  all  the  great 
people,  if  there  were  any  such,  he  would  know  them."  This 
was  all  of  Mr  Joseph  Andrew's  speech  which  I  could  get 
him  to  recollect,  which  I  have  delivered  as  near  as  was  pos- 
sible in  his  own  words,  with  a  very  small  embellishment. 
But  I  believe  the  reader  hath  not  been  a  little  surprised  at 
the  long  silence  of  parson  Adams,  especially  as  so  many  oc- 
casions offered  themselves  to  exert  his  curiosity  and  observa- 
tion. The  truth  is,  he  was  fast  asleep,  and  had  so  been  from 
the  beginning  of  the  preceding  narrative ;  and,  indeed,  if  the 
reader  considers  that  so  many  hours  had  passed  since  he 
had  closed  his  eyes,  he  will  not  wonder  at  his  repose,  though 
even  Henley  himself,  or  as  great  an  orator  (if  any  such  be), 
had  been  in  his  rostrum  or  tub  before  him. 

Joseph,  who  whilst  he  was  speaking  had  continued  in  one 
attitude,  with  his  head  reclining  on  one  side,  and  his  eyes 
cast  on  the  ground,  no  sooner  perceived,  on  looking  up,  the 
position  of  Adams,  who  was  stretched  on  his  back,  and  snored 
louder  than  the  usual  braying  of  the  animal  with  long  ears, 
than  he  turned  towards  Fanny,  and,  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
began  a  dalliance,  which,  though  consistent  with  the  purest 
innocence  and  decency,  neither  he  would  have  attempted  nor 
she  permitted  before  any  witness.  Whilst  they  amused  them- 
selves in  this  harmless  and  delightful  manner  they  heard 
a  pack  of  hounds  approaching  in  full  cry  towards  them,  and 
presently  afterwards  saw  a  hare  pop  forth  from  the  wood, 
and,  crossing  the  water,  land  within  a  few  yards  of  them  in 
the  meadows.  The  hare  was  no  sooner  on  shore  than  it  seated 
itself  on  its  hinder  legs,  and  listened  to  the  sound  of  the 
pursuers.  Fanny  was  wonderfully  pleased  with  the  little 
wretch,  and  eagerly  longed  to  have  it  in  her  arms,  that  she 
might  preserve  it  from  the  dangers  which  seemed  to  threaten 
it ;  but  the  rational  part  of  the  creation  do  not  always  aptly 
distinguish  their  friends  from  their  foes ;  what  wonder  then 
if  this  silly  creature,  the  moment  it  beheld  her,  fled  from  the 
friend  who  would  have  protected  it,  and,  traversing  the  mea- 
dows again,  passed  the  little  rivulet  on  the  opposite  side?  It 
was,  however,  so  spent  and  weak,  that  it  fell  down  twice  or 

211 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

thrice  in  its  way.  This  affected  the  tender  heart  of  Fanny,  who 
exclaimed,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  against  the  barbarity  of 
worrying  a  poor  innocent  defenceless  animal  out  of  its  life, 
and  putting  it  to  the  extremest  torture  for  diversion.  She 
had  not  much  time  to  make  reflections  of  this  kind,  for  on  a 
sudden  the  hounds  rushed  through  the  wood,  which  resounded 
with  their  throats  and  the  throats  of  their  retinue,  who  at- 
tended on  them  on  horseback,  The  dogs  now  past  the  rivulet, 
and  pursued  the  footsteps  of  the  hare ;  five  horsemen  at- 
tempted to  leap  over,  three  of  whom  succeeded,  and  two  were 
in  the  attempt  thrown  from  their  saddles  into  the  water ;  their 
companions,  and  their  own  horses  too,  proceeded  after  their 
sport,  and  left  their  friends  and  riders  to  invoke  the  assistance 
of  Fortune,  or  employ  the  more  active  means  of  strength  and 
agility  for  their  deliverance.  Joseph,  however,  was  not  so 
unconcerned  on  this  occasion ;  he  left  Fanny  for  a  moment 
to  herself,  and  ran  to  the  gentlemen,  who  were  immediately 
on  their  legs,  shaking  their  ears,  and  easily,  with  the  help  of 
his  hand,  obtained  the  bank  (for  the  rivulet  was  not  at  all 
deep)  ;  and,  without  staying  to  thank  their  kind  assister,  ran 
dripping  across  the  meadow,  calling  to  their  brother  sports- 
men to  stop  their  horses ;  but  they  heard  them  not. 

The  hounds  were  now  very  little  behind  their  poor  reeling, 
staggering  prey,  which,  fainting  almost  at  every  step,  crawled 
through  the  wood,  and  had  almost  got  round  to  the  place 
where  Fanny  stood,  when  it  was  overtaken  by  its  enemies,  and, 
being  driven  out  of  the  covert,  was  caught  and  instantly  tore 
to  pieces  before  Fanny's  face,  who  was  unable  to  assist  it 
with  any  aid  more  powerful  than  pity ;  nor  could  she  prevail 
on  Joseph,  who  had  been  himself  a  sportsman  in  his  youth, 
to  attempt  anything  contrary  to  the  laws  of  hunting  in  favour 
of  the  hare,  which  he  said  was  killed  fairly. 

The  hare  was  caught  within  a  yard  or  two  of  Adams,  who 
lay  asleep  at  some  distance  from  the  lovers ;  and  the  hounds, 
in  devouring  it,  and  pulling  it  backwards  and  forwards,  had 
drawn  it  close  to  him,  that  some  of  them  (by  mistake  per- 
haps for  the  hare's  skin)  laid  hold  of  the  skirts  of  his  cassock ; 
others,  at  the  same  time  applying  their  teeth  to  his  wig,  which 
he  had  with  a  handkerchief  fastened  to  his  head,  began  to  pull 
him  about ;  and  had  not  the  motion  of  his  body  had  more  effect 

212 


H 

c 

C 


SJ 


C/5 

o 
o 
s 
ft 

-S 


(A. 

o 
ro 


ft 
p: 

ft 
3- 


ft 


orq 


' 


A'.' 


X- 


8 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

on  him  than  seemed  to  be  wrought  by  the  noise,  they  must 
certainly  have  tasted  his  flesh,  which  delicious  flavour  might 
have  been  fatal  to  him ;  but,  being  roused  by  these  tuggings, 
he  instantly  awakened,  and  with  a  jerk  delivering  his  head 
from  his  wig,  he  with  most  admirable  dexterity  recovered  his 
legs,  which  now  seemed  the  only  members  he  could  entrust  his 
safety  to.  Having,  therefore,  escaped  likewise  from  at  least 
a  third  part  of  his  cassock,  which  he  willingly  left  as  his 
exuvia  or  spoils  to  the  enemy,  he  fled  with  the  utmost  speed 
he  could  summon  to  his  assistance.  Nor  let  this  be  any  de- 
traction from  the  bravery  of  his  character :  let  the  number 
of  the  enemies,  and  the  surprize  in  which  he  was  taken,  be 
considered ;  and  if  there  be  any  modern  so  outrageously  brave 
that  he  cannot  admit  of  flight  in  any  circumstance  whatever, 
I  say  (but  I  whisper  that  softly,  and  I  solemnly  declare  with- 
out any  intention  of  giving  offence  to  any  brave  man  in  the 
nation),  I  say,  or  rather  I  whisper,  that  he  is  an  ignorant 
fellow,  and  hath  never  read  Homer  nor  Virgil,  nor  knows 
he  anything  of  Hector  or  Turnus ;  nay,  he  is  unacquainted 
with  the  history  of  some  great  men  living,  who,  though  as 
brave  as  lions,  aye,  as  tigers,  have  run  away,  the  Lord  knows 
how  far,  and  the  Lord  knows  why,  to  the  surprize  of  their 
friends  and  the  entertainment  of  their  enemies.  But  if  per- 
sons of  such  heroic  disposition  are  a  little  offended  at  the 
behaviour  of  Adams,  we  assure  them  they  shall  be  as  much 
pleased  with  what  we  shall  immediately  relate  of  Joseph  An- 
drews. The  master  of  the  pack  was  just  arrived,  or,  as  the 
sportsmen  call  it,  come  in,  when  Adams  set  out,  as  we  have 
before  mentioned.  This  gentleman  was  generally  said  to  be 
a  great  lover  of  humour;  but,  not  to  mince  the  matter,  espe- 
cially as  we  are  upon  this  subject,  he  was  a  greater  hunter 
of  men ;  indeed,  he  had  hitherto  followed  the  sport  only  with 
dogs  of  his  own  species ;  for  he  kept  two  or  three  couple  of 
barking  curs  for  that  use  only.  However,  as  he  thought  he 
had  now  found  a  man  nimble  enough,  he  was  willing  to  in- 
dulge himself  with  other  sport,  and  accordingly,  crying  out, 
stole  away,  encouraged  the  hounds  to  pursue  Mr  Adams, 
swearing  it  was  the  largest  jack-hare  he  ever  saw ;  at  the  same 
time  hallooing  and  hooping  as  if  a  conquered  foe  was  flying 
before  him ;  in  which  he  was  imitated  by  these  two  or  three 

213 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

couple  of  human  or  rather  two-legged  curs  on  horseback 
which  we  have  mentioned  before. 

Now  thou,  whoever  thou  art,  whether  a  muse,  or  by  what 
other  name  soever  thou  choosest  to  be  called,  who  presidest 
over  biography,  and  hast  inspired  all  the  writers  of  lives  in 
hese  our  times :  thou  who  didst  infuse  such  wonderful  hu- 
mour into  the  pen  of  immortal  Gulliver;  who  hast  carefully 
guided  the  judgment  whilst  thou  hast  exalted  the  nervous 
manly  style  of  thy  Mallet :  thou  who  hadst  no  hand  in  that 
dedication  and  preface,  or  the  translations,  which  thou  wouldst 
willingly  have  struck  out  of  the  life  of  Cicero:  lastly,  thou 
who,  without  the  assistance  of  the  least  spice  of  literature, 
and  even  against  his  inclination,  hast,  in  some  pages  of  his 
book,  forced  Colley  Cibber  to  write  English;  do  thou  assist 
me  in  what  I  find  myself  unequal  to.  Do  thou  introduce  on 
the  plain  the  young,  the  gay,  the  brave  Joseph  Andrews, 
whilst  men  shall  view  him  with  admiration  and  envy,  tender 
virgins  with  love  and  anxious  concern  for  his  safety. 

No  sooner  did  Joseph  Andrews  perceive  the  distress  of  his 
friend,  when  first  the  quick-scenting  dogs  attacked  him,  than 
he  grasped  his  cudgel  in  his  right  hand — a  cudgel  which  his 
father  had  of  his  grandfather,  to  whom  a  mighty  strong  man 
of  Kent  had  given  it  for  a  present  in  that  day  when  he 
broke  three  heads  on  the  stage.  It  was  a  cudgel  of  mighty 
strength  and  wonderful  art,  made  by  one  of  Mr  Deard's  best 
workmen,  whom  no  other  artificer  can  equal,  and  who  hath 
made  all  those  sticks  which  the  beaux  have  lately  walked 
with  about  the  Park  in  a  morning;  but  this  was  far  his 
masterpiece.  On  its  head  was  engraved  a  nose  and  chin, 
which  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  pair  of  nutcrackers. 
The  learned  have  imagined  it  designed  to  represent  the  Gor- 
gon ;  but  it  was  in  fact  copied  from  the  face  of  a  certain  long 
English  baronet,  of  infinite  wit,  humour,  and  gravity.  He 
did  intend  to  have  engraved  here  many  histories :  as  the  first 

night  of  Captain  B 's  play,  where  you  would  have  seen 

critics  in  embroidery  transplanted  from  the  boxes  to  the  pit, 
whose  ancient  inhabitants  were  exalted  to  the  galleries,  where 
they  played  on  catcalls.  He  did  intend  to  have  painted  an 
auction-room,  where  Mr  Cock  would  have  appeared  aloft  in 
his  pulpit,  trumpeting  forth  the  praises  of  a  china  basin,  and 

214 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

with  astonishment  wondering  that  "  Nobody  bids  more  for 

that  fine,  that  superb  " He  did  intend  to  have  engraved 

many  other  things,  but  was  forced  to  leave  all  out  for  want 
of  room. 

No  sooner  had  Joseph  grasped  his  cudgel  in  his  hands 
than  lightning  darted  from  his  eyes ;  and  the  heroic  youth, 
swift  of  foot,  ran  with  the  utmost  speed  to  his  friend's  assist- 
ance. He  overtook  him  just  as  Rockwood  had  laid  hold  of 
the  skirt  of  his  cassock,  which,  being  torn,  hung  to  the  ground. 
Reader,  we  would  make  a  simile  on  this  occasion,  but  for  two 
reasons :  the  first  is,  it  would  interrupt  the  description,  which 
should  be  rapid  in  this  part;  but  that  doth  not  weigh  much, 
many  precedents  occurring  for  such  an  interruption :  the  sec- 
ond and  much  the  greater  reason  is,  that  we  could  find  no 
simile  adequate  to  our  purpose :  for  indeed,  what  instance 
could  we  bring  to  set  before  our  reader's  eyes  at  once  the 
idea  of  friendship,  courage,  youth,  beauty,  strength,  and  swift- 
ness? all  which  blazed  in  the  person  of  Joseph  Andrews. 
Let  those,  therefore,  that  describe  lions  and  tigers,  and  heroes 
fiercer  than  both,  raise  their  poems  or  plays  with  the  simile 
of  Joseph  Andrews,  who  is  himself  above  the  reach  of  any 
simile. 

Now  Rockwood  had  laid  fast  hold  on  the  parson's  skirts, 
and  stopt  his  flight;  which  Joseph  no  sooner  perceived  than 
he  levelled  his  cudgel  at  his  head  and  laid  him  sprawling. 
Jowler  and  Ringwood  then  fell  on  his  great-coat,  and  had 
undoubtedly  brought  him  to  the  ground,  had  not  Joseph, 
collecting  all  his  force,  given  Jowler  such  a  rap  on  the  back, 
that,  quitting  his  hold,  he  ran  howling  over  the  plain.  A 
harder  fate  remained  for  thee,  O  Ringwood !  Ringwood,  the 
best  hound  that  ever  pursued  a  hare,  who  never  threw  his 
tongue  but  where  the  scent  was  undoubtedly  true;  good  at 
trailing,  and  sure  in  a  highway ;  no  babbler,  no  overrunner ; 
respected  by  the  whole  pack,  who,  whenever  he  opened,  they 
knew  the  game  was  at  hand.  He  fell  by  the  stroke  of  Joseph. 
Thunder  and  Plunder,  and  Wonder  and  Blunder,  were  the 
next  victims  of  his  wrath,  and  measured  their  lengths  on  the 
ground.  Then  Fairmaid,  a  bitch  which  Mr  John  Temple 
had  bred  up  in  his  house,  and  fed  at  his  own  table,  and  lately 
sent  the  squire  fifty  miles  for  a  present,  ran  fiercely  at  Joseph 

215 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  bit  him  by  the  leg:  no  dog  was  ever  fiercer  than  she, 
being  descended  from  an  Amazonian  breed,  and  had  worried 
bulls  in  her  own  country,  but  now  waged  an  unequal  fight, 
and  had  shared  the  fate  of  those  we  have  mentioned  before, 
had  not  Diana  (the  reader  may  believe  it  or  not  as  he  pleases) 
in  that  instant  interposed,  and,  in  the  shape  of  the  hunts- 
man, snatched  her  favourite  up  in  her  arms. 

The  parson  now  faced  about,  and  with  his  crabstick  felled 
many  to  the  earth,  and  scattered  others,  till  he  was  attacked 
by  Caesar  and  pulled  to  the  ground.  Then  Joseph  flew  to 
his  rescue,  and  with  such  might  fell  on  the  victor,  that,  O 
eternal  blot  to  his  name !  Caesar  ran  yelping  away. 

The  battle  now  raged  with  the  most  dreadful  violence, 
when,  lo!  the  huntsman,  a  man  of  years  and  dignity,  lifted 
his  voice,  and  called  his  hounds  from  the  fight,  telling  them, 
in  a  language  they  understood,  that  it  was  in  vain  to  con- 
tend longer,  for  that  fate  had  decreed  the  victory  to  their 
enemies. 

Thus  far  the  muse  hath  with  her  usual  dignity  related  this 
prodigious  battle,  a  battle  we  apprehend  never  equalled  by 
any  poet,  romance  or  life  writer  whatever,  and,  having  brought 
it  to  a  conclusion,  she  ceased ;  we  shall  therefore  proceed  in 
our  ordinary  style  with  the  continuation  of  this  history.  The 
squire  and  his  companions,  whom  the  figure  of  Adams  and  the 
gallantry  of  Joseph  had  at  first  thrown  into  a  violent  fit  of 
laughter,  and  who  had  hitherto  beheld  the  engagement  with 
more  delight  than  any  chase,  shooting-match,  race,  cock-fight- 
ing, bull  or  bear  baiting,  had  ever  given  them,  began  now  to 
apprehend  the  danger  of  their  hounds,  many  of  which  lay 
sprawling  in  the  fields.  The  squire,  therefore,  having  first 
called  his  friends  about  him,  as  guards  for  safety  of  his  per- 
son, rode  manfully  up  to  the  combatants,  and,  summoning 
all  the  terror  he  was  master  of  into  his  countenance,  de- 
manded with  an  authoritative  voice  of  Joseph  what  he  meant 
by  assaulting  his  dogs  in  that  manner?  Joseph  answered, 
with  great  intrepidity,  that  they  had  first  fallen  on  his  friend ; 
and  if  they  had  belonged  to  the  greatest  man  in  the  kingdom, 
he  would  have  treated  them  in  the  same  way;  for,  whilst  his 
veins  contained  a  single  drop  of  blood,  he  would  not  stand  idle 
by  and  see  that  gentleman  (pointing  to  Adams)  abused  either 

216 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

by  man  or  beast;  and,  having  so  said,  both  he  and  Adams 
brandished  their  wooden  weapons,  and  put  themselves  in  such 
a  posture,  that  the  squire  and  his  company  thought  proper  to 
preponderate  before  they  offered  to  revenge  the  cause  of  their 
four-footed  allies. 

At  this  instant  Fanny,  whom  the  apprehension  of  Joseph's 
danger  had  alarmed  so  much  that,  forgetting  her  own,  she 
had  made  the  utmost  expedition,  came  up.  The  squire  and  all 
the  horsemen  were  so  surprized  with  her  beauty,  that  they 
immediately  fixed  both  their  eyes  and  thoughts  solely  on  her, 
every  one  declaring  he  had  never  seen  so  charming  a  creature. 
Neither  mirth  nor  anger  engaged  them  a  moment  longer,  but 
all  sat  in  silent  amaze.  The  huntsman  only  was  free  from 
her  attraction,  who  was  busy  in  cutting  the  ears  of  the  dogs, 
and  endeavouring  to  recover  them  to  life ;  in  which  he  suc- 
ceeded so  well,  that  only  two  of  no  great  note  remained 
slaughtered  on  the  field  of  action.  Upon  this  the  huntsman 
declared,  'twas  well  it.  was  no  worse;  for  his  part  he  could 
not  blame  the  gentleman,  and  wondered  his  master  would 
encourage  the  dogs  to  hunt  Christians ;  that  it  was  the  surest 
way  to  spoil  them,  to  make  them  follow  vermin  instead  of 
sticking  to  a  hare. 

The  squire,  being  informed  of  the  little  mischief  that  had 
been  done,  and  perhaps  having  more  mischief  of  another  kind 
in  his  head,  accosted  Mr  Adams  with  a  more  favourable  aspect 
than  before :  he  told  him  he  was  sorry  for  what  had  happened ; 
that  he  had  endeavoured  all  he  could  to  prevent  it  the  mo- 
ment he  was  acquainted  with  his  cloth,  and  greatly  com- 
mended the  courage  of  his  servant,  for  so  he  imagined  Joseph 
to  be.  He  then  invited  Mr  Adams  to  dinner,  and  desired  the 
young  woman  might  come  with  him.  Adams  refused  a  long 
while ;  but  the  invitation  was  repeated  with  so  much  earnest- 
ness and  courtesy,  that  at  length  he  was  forced  to  accept  it. 
His  wig  and  hat,  and  other  spoils  of  the  field,  being  gathered 
together  by  Joseph  (for  otherwise  probably  they  would  have 
been  forgotten),  he  put  himself  into  the  best  order  he  could; 
and  then  the  horse  and  foot  moved  forward  in  the  same  pace 
towards  the  squire's  house,  which  stood  at  a  very  little  dis- 
tance. 

Whilst  they  were  on  the  road  the  lovely  Fanny  attracted 

217 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  eyes  of  all :  they  endeavoured  to  outvie  one  another  in 
encomiums  on  her  beauty;  which  the  reader  will  pardon  my 
not  relating,  as  they  had  not  anything  new  or  uncommon  in 
them :  so  must  he  likewise  my  not  setting  down  the  many 
curious  jests  which  were  made  on  Adams ;  some  of  them  de- 
claring that  parson-hunting  was  the  best  sport  in  the  world ; 
others  commending  his  standing  at  bay,  which  they  said  he 
had  done  as  well  as  any  badger ;  with  such-like  merriment, 
which,  though  it  would  ill  become  the  dignity  of  this  history, 
afforded  much  laughter  and  diversion  to  the  squire  and  his 
facetious  companions. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A  SCENE  OF  ROASTING,  VERY  NICELY  ADAPTED  TO  THE  PRESENT 

TASTE  AND  TIMES. 

THEY  arrived  at  the  squire's  house,  just  as  his  dinner  was 
ready.  A  little  dispute  arose  on  the  account  of  Fanny, 
whom  the  squire,  who  was  a  bachelor,  was  desirous  to  place 
at  his  own  table ;  but  she  would  not  consent,  nor  would  Mr 
Adams  permit  her  to  be  parted  from  Joseph;  so  that  she 
was  at  length  with  him  consigned  over  to  the  kitchen,  where 
the  servants  were  ordered  to  make  him  drunk ;  a  favour 
which  was  likewise  intended  for  Adams ;  which  design  being 
executed,  the  squire  thought  he  should  easily  accomplish 
what  he  had  when  he  first  saw  her  intended  to  perpetrate 
with  Fanny. 

It  may  not  be  improper,  before  we  proceed  farther,  to  open 
a  little  the  character  of  this  gentleman,  and  that  of  his  friends. 
The  master  of  this  house,  then,  was  a  man  of  a  very  con- 
siderable fortune ;  a  bachelor,  as  we  have  said,  and  about 
forty  years  of  age:  he  had  been  educated  (if  we  may  here 
use  the  expression)  in  the  country,  and  at  his  own  home, 
under  the  care  of  his  mother,  and  a  tutor  who  had  orders 
never  to  correct  him,  nor  to  compel  him  to  learn  more  than 
he  liked,  which  it  seems  was  very  little,  and  that  only  in  his 
childhood ;  for  from  the  age  of  fifteen  he  addicted  himself 

218 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

entirely  to  hunting  and  other  rural  amusements,  for  which 
his  mother  took  care  to  equip  him  with  horses,  hounds,  and 
all  other  necessaries  ;  and  his  tutor,  endeavouring  to  ingratiate 
himself  with  his  young  pupil,  who  would,  he  knew,  be  able 
handsomely  to  provide  for  him,  became  his  companion,  not 
only  at  these  exercises,  but  likewise  over  a  bottle,  which  the 
young  squire  had  a  very  early  relish  for.  At  the  age  of 
twenty  his  mother  began  to  think  she  had  not  fulfilled  the 
duty  of  a  parent ;  she  therefore  resolved  to  persuade  her  son, 
if  possible,  to  that  which  she  imagined  would  well  supply  all 
that  he  might  have  learned  at  a  public  school  or  university, 
— that  is  what  they  commonly  call  travelling;  which,  with 
the  help  of  the  tutor,  who  was  fixed  on  to  attend  him,  she 
easily  succeeded  in.  He  made  in  three  years  the  tour  of 
Europe,  as  they  term  it,  and  returned  home  well  furnished 
with  French  clothes,  phrases,  and  servants,  with  a  hearty 
contempt  for  his  own  country ;  especially  what  had  any 
savour  of  the  plain  spirit  and  honesty  of  our  ancestors.  His 
mother  greatly  applauded  herself  at  his  return.  And  now, 
being  master  of  his  own  fortune,  he  soon  procured  himself  a 
seat  in  parliament,  and  was  in  the  common  opinion  one  of 
the  finest  gentlemen  of  his  age :  but  what  distinguished  him 
chiefly  was  a  strange  delight  which  he  took  in  everything 
which  is  ridiculous,  odious,  and  absurd  in  his  own  species ; 
so  that  he  never  chose  a  companion  without  one  or  more  of 
these  ingredients,  and  those  who  were  marked  by  nature  in 
the  most  eminent  degree  with  them  were  most  his  favourites. 
If  he  ever  found  a  man  who  either  had  not,  or  endeavoured 
to  conceal,  these  imperfections,  he  took  great  pleasure  in  in- 
venting methods  of  forcing  him  into  absurdities  which  were 
not  natural  to  him,  or  in  drawing  forth  and  exposing  those 
that  were ;  for  which  purpose  he  was  always  provided  with 
a  set  of  fellows,  whom  we  have  before  called  curs,  and  who 
did,  indeed,  no  great  honour  to  the  canine  kind  ;  their  busi- 
ness was  to  hunt  out  and  display  everything  that  had  any 
savour  of  the  above-mentioned  qualities,  and  especially  in 
the  gravest  and  best  characters ;  but  if  they  failed  in  their 
search,  they  were  to  turn  even  virtue  and  wisdom  themselves 
into  ridicule,  for  the  diversion  of  their  master  and  feeder. 

219 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

The  gentlemen  of  curlike  disposition  who  were  now  at  his 
house,  and  whom  he  had  brought  with  him  from  London, 
were,  an  old  half-pay  officer,  a  player,  a  dull  poet,  a  quack- 
doctor,  a  scraping  fiddler,  and  a  lame  German  dancing-master. 
As  soon  as  dinner  was  served,  while  Mr  Adams  was  say- 
ing grace,  the  captain  conveyed  his  chair  from  behind  him; 
so  that  when  he  endeavoured  to  seat  himself  he  fell  down  on 
the  ground,  and  this  completed  joke  the  first,  to  the  great 
entertainment  of  the  whole  company.  The  second  joke  was 
performed  by  the  poet,  who  sat  next  him  on  the  other  side, 
and  took  an  opportunity,  while  poor  Adams  was  respectfully 
drinking  to  the  master  of  the  house,  to  overturn  a  plate  of 
soup  into  his  breeches;  which,  with  the  many  apologies  he 
made,  and  the  parson's  gentle  answers,  caused  much  mirth 
in  the  company.  Joke  the  third  was  served  up  by  one  of 
the  waiting-men,  who  had  been  ordered  to  convey  a  quantity 
of  gin  into  Mr  Adams's  ale,  which  he  declaring  to  be  the  best 
liquor  he  ever  drank,  but  rather  too  rich  of  the  malt,  con- 
tributed again  to  their  laughter.  Mr  Adams,  from  whom 
we  had  most  of  this  relation,  could  not  recollect  all  the  jests 
of  this  kind  practised  on  him,  which  the  inoffensive  disposi- 
tion of  his  own  heart  made  him  slow  in  discovering ;  and  in- 
deed, had  it  not  been  for  the  information  which  we  re- 
ceived from  a  servant  of  the  family,  this  part  of  our  history, 
which  we  take  to  be  none  of  the  least  curious,  must  have  been 
deplorably  imperfect;  though  we  must  own  it  probable  that 
some  more  jokes  were  (as  they  call  it)  cracked  during  their 
dinner;  but  we  have  by  no  means  been  able  to  come  at  the 
knowledge  of  them.  When  dinner  was  removed,  the  poet 
began  to  repeat  some  verses,  which,  he  said,  were  made  ex- 
tempore. The  following  is  a  copy  of  them,  procured  with 
the  greatest  difficulty: 

An  extempore  Poem  on  parson  Adams. 

Did  ever  mortal  such  a  parson  view? 
His  cassock  old,  his  wig  not  over-new, 
Well  might  the  hounds  have  him  for  fox  mistaken, 
In  smell  more  like  to  that  than  rusty  bacon ;  * 
*  All  hounds  that  will  hunt  fox  or  other  vermin  will  hunt  a  piece  of 
rusty  bacon  trailed  on  the  ground. 

220 


JOSErH   ANDREWS 

But  would  it  not  make  any  mortal  stare 
To  see  this  parson  taken  for  a  hare? 
Could  Phoebus  err  thus  grossly,  even  he 
For  a  good  player  might  have  taken  thee. 

At  which  words  the  bard  whipt  off  the  player's  wig,  and 
received  the  approbation  of  the  company,  rather  perhaps  for 
the  dexterity  of  his  hand  than  his  head.  The  player,  instead 
of  retorting  the  jest  on  the  poet,  began  to  display  his  talents 
on  the  same  subject.  He  repeated  many  scraps  of  wit  out  of 
plays,  reflecting  on  the  whole  body  of  the  clergy,  which  were 
received  with  great  acclamations  by  all  present.  It  was  now 
the  dancing-master's  turn  to  exhibit  his  talents ;  he  therefore, 
addressing  himself  to  Adams  in  broken  English,  told  him, 
"  He  was  a  man  ver  well  made  for  de  dance,  and  he  suppose 
by  his  walk  dat  he  had  learn  of  some  great  master."  He  said, 
'  It  was  ver  pritty  quality  in  clergyman  to  dance ;  "  and  con- 
cluded with  desiring  him  to  dance  a  minuet,  telling  him,  his 
cassock  would  serve  for  petticoats ;  and  that  he  would  him- 
self be  his  partner.  At  which  words,  without  waiting  for 
an  answer,  he  pulled  out  his  gloves,  and  the  fiddler  was  pre- 
paring his  fiddle.  The  company  all  offered  the  dancing- 
master  wagers  that  the  parson  out-danced  him,  which  he  re- 
fused, saying  he  believed  so  too,  for  he  had  never  seen  any 
man  in  his  life  who  "  looked  de  dance  so  well  as  de  gentle- 
man : "  he  then  stepped  forwards  to  take  Adams  by  the 
hand,  which  the  latter  hastily  withdrew,  and,  at  the  same 
time  clenching  his  fist,  advised  him  not  to  carry  the 
jest  too  far,  for  he  would  not  endure  being  put  upon.  The 
dancing-master  no  sooner  saw  the  fist  than  he  prudently  re- 
tired out  of  its  reach,  and  stood  aloof,  mimicking  Adams, 
whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  him,  not  guessing  what  he  was  at, 
but  to  avoid  his  laying  hold  on  him,  which  he  had  once  at- 
tempted. In  the  mean  while,  the  captain,  perceiving  an  op- 
portunity, pinned  a  cracker  or  devil  to  the  cassock,  and  then 
lighted  it  with  their  little  smoking-candle.  Adams,  being 
a  stranger  to  this  sport,  and  believing  he  had  been  blown  up 
in  reality,  started  from  his  chair,  and  jumped  about  the  room, 
to  the  infinite  joy  of  the  beholders,  who  declared  he  was  the 
best  dancer  in  the  universe.     As  soon  as  the  devil  had  done 

221 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

tormenting  him,  and  he  had  a  little  recovered  his  confusion, 
he  returned  to  the  table,  standing  up  in  the  posture  of  one 
■who  intended  to  make  a  speech.  They  all  cried  out,  "  Hear 
him,  hear  him ;  "  and  he  then  spoke  in  the  following  manner : 
"  Sir,  I  am  sorry  to  see  one  to  whom  Providence  hath  been 
so  bountiful  in  bestowing  his  favours  make  so  ill  and  un- 
grateful a  return  for  them ;  for,  though  you  have  not  insulted 
me  yourself,  it  is  visible  you  have  delighted  in  those  that 
do  it,  nor  have  once  discouraged  the  many  rudenesses  which 
have  been  shown  towards  me ;  indeed,  towards  yourself,  if 
you  rightly  understood  them;  for  I  am  your  guest,  and  by 
the  laws  of  hospitality  entitled  to  your  protection.  One  gen- 
tleman had  thought  proper  to  produce  some  poetry  upon  me, 
of  which  I  shall  only  say,  that  I  had  rather  be  the  subject 
than  the  composer.  He  hath  pleased  to  treat  me  with  disre- 
spect as  a  parson.  I  apprehend  my  order  is  not  the  subject 
of  scorn,  nor  that  I  can  become  so,  unless  by  being  a  disgrace 
to  it,  which  I  hope  poverty  will  never  be  called.  Another 
gentleman,  indeed,  hath  repeated  some  sentences,  where  the 
order  itself  is  mentioned  with  contempt.  He  says  they  are 
taken  from  plays.  I  am  sure  such  plays  are  a  scandal  to 
the  government  which  permits  them,  and  cursed  will  be  the 
nation  where  they  are  represented.  How  others  have  treated 
me  I  need  not  observe ;  they  themselves,  when  they  reflect, 
must  allow  the  behaviour  to  be  as  improper  to  my  years  as 
to  my  cloth.  You  found  me,  sir,  travelling  with  two  of  my 
parishioners  (I  omit  your  hounds  falling  on  me;  for  I  have 
quite  forgiven  it,  whether  it  proceeded  from  the  wantonness 
or  negligence  of  the  huntsman)  :  my  appearance  might  very 
well  persuade  you  that  your  invitation  was  an  act  of  charity, 
though  in  reality  we  were  well  provided ;  yes,  sir,  if  we  had 
had  an  hundred  miles  to  travel,  we  had  sufficient  to  bear  our 
expenses  in  a  noble  manner."  (At  which  words  he  produced 
the  half-guinea  which  was  found  in  the  basket.)  '  I  do  not 
show  you  this  out  of  ostentation  of  riches,  but  to  convince 
you  I  speak  truth.  Your  seating  me  at  your  table  was  an  hon- 
our which  I  did  not  ambitiously  affect.  When  I  was  here,  I 
endeavoured  to  behave  towards  you  with  the  utmost  respect ; 
if  I  have  failed,  it  was  not  with  design ;  nor  could  I,  certainly, 

222 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

so  far  be  guilty  as  to  deserve  the  insults  I  have  suffered.  If 
they  were  meant,  therefore,  either  to  my  order  or  my  poverty 
(and  you  see  I  am  not  very  poor),  the  shame  doth  not  lie  at 
my  door,  and  I  heartily  pray  that  the  sin  may  be  averted 
from  yours."  He  thus  finished,  and  received  a  general  clap 
from  the  whole  company.  Then  the  gentleman  of  the  house 
told  him,  he  was  sorry  for  what  had  happened ;  that  he  could 
not  accuse  him  of  any  share  in  it ;  that  the  verses  were,  as 
himself  had  well  observed,  so  bad,  that  he  might  easily  answer 
them ;  and  for  the  serpent,  it  was  undoubtedly  a  very  great 
affront  done  him  by  the  dancing-master,  for  which,  if  he  well 
thrashed  him,  as  he  deserved,  he  should  be  very  much 
pleased  to  see  it  (in  which,  probably,  he  spoke  truth).  Adams 
answered,  whoever  had  done  it,  it  was  not  his  profession  to 
punish  him  that  way ;  "  But  for  the  person  whom  he  had  ac- 
cused, I  am  a  witness,"  says  he,  "  of  his  innocence ;  for  I  had 
my  eye  on  him  all  the  while.  Whoever  he  was,  God  forgive 
him,  and  bestow  on  him  a  little  more  sense  as  well  as  hu- 
manity." The  captain  answered  with  a  surly  look  and  accent, 
that  he  hoped  he  did  not  mean  to  reflect  upon  him ;  d — n  him, 
he  had  as  much  imanity  as  another,  and,  if  any  man  said  he 
had  not,  he  would  convince  him  of  his  mistake  by  cutting 
his  throat.  Adams,  smiling,  said,  he  believed  he  had  spoke 
right  by  accident.  To  which  the  captain  returned,  what  do 
you  mean  by  my  speaking  right?  If  you  was  not  a  parson, 
I  would  not  take  these  words ;  but  your  gown  protects  you. 
If  any  man  who  wears  a  sword  had  said  so  much,  I  had 
pulled  him  by  the  nose  before  this.  Adams  replied,  if  he 
attempted  any  rudeness  to  his  person,  he  would  not  find  any 
protection  for  himself  in  his  gown ;  and,  clenching  his  fist, 
declared  he  had  thrashed  many  a  stouter  man.  The  gentle- 
man did  all  he  could  to  encourage  this  warlike  disposition 
in  Adams,  and  was  in  hopes  to  have  produced  a  battle,  but 
he  was  disappointed ;  for  the  captain  made  no  other  answer 
than,  it  is  very  well  you  are  a  parson ;  and  so,  drinking  off 
a  bumper  to  old  mother  Church,  ended  the  dispute. 

Then  the  doctor,  who  had  hitherto  been  silent,  and  who 
was  the  gravest  but  most  mischievous  dog  of  all,  in  a  very 
pompous  speech  highly  applauded  what  Adams  had  said, 

223 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  as  much  discommended  the  behaviour  to  him.  He  pro- 
ceeded to  encomiums  on  the  church  and  poverty ;  and,  lastly, 
recommended  forgiveness  of  what  had  passed  to  Adams,  who 
immediately  answered,  that  everything  was  forgiven ;  and 
in  the  warmth  of  his  goodness  he  filled  a  bumper  of  strong 
beer  (a  liquor  he  preferred  to  wine),  and  drank  a  health 
to  the  whole  company,  shaking  the  captain  and  the  poet 
heartily  by  the  hand,  and  addressing  himself  with  great  re- 
spect to  the  doctor;  who,  indeed,  had  not  laughed  outwardly 
at  anything  that  past,  as  he  had  a  perfect  command  of  his 
muscles,  and  could  laugh  inwardly  without  betraying  the 
least  symptoms  in  his  countenance.  The  doctor  now  began 
a  second  formal  speech,  in  which  he  declaimed  against  all 
levity  of  conversation,  and  what  is  usually  called  mirth.  He 
said,  There  were  amusements  fitted  for  persons  of  all  ages 
and  degrees,  from  the  rattle  to  the  discussing  a  point  of  phi- 
losophy ;  and  that  men  discovered  themselves  in  nothing 
more  than  in  the  choice  of  their  amusements ;  "  For,"  says  he, 
"  as  it  must  greatly  raise  our  expectation  of  the  future  con- 
duct in  life  of  boys  whom  in  their  tender  years  we  perceive, 
instead  of  taw  or  balls,  or  other  childish  playthings,  to  choose, 
at  their  leisure  hours,  to  exercise  their  genius  in  conten- 
tions of  wit,  learning,  and  such  like;  so  must  it  inspire  one 
with  equal  contempt  of  a  man,  if  we  should  discover  him 
playing  at  taw  or  other  childish  play."  Adams  highly  com- 
mended the  doctor's  opinion,  and  said,  he  had  often  won- 
dered at  some  passages  in  ancient  authors,  where  Scipio, 
Lselius,  and  other  great  men,  were  represented  to  have  passed 
many  hours  in  amusements  of  the  most  trifling  kind.  The 
doctor  replied,  he  had  by  him  an  old  Greek  manuscript  where 
a  favourite  diversion  of  Socrates  was  recorded.  "  Aye ! " 
says  the  parson  eagerly :  "  I  should  be  most  infinitely  obliged 
to  you  for  the  favour  of  perusing  it."  The  doctor  promised 
to  send  it  him,  and  farther  said,  that  he  believed  he  could 
describe  it.  "  I  think,"  says  he,  "  as  near  as  I  can  remember, 
it  was  this :  there  was  a  throne  erected,  on  one  side  of  which 
sat  a  king,  and  on  the  other  a  queen,  with  their  guards  and 
attendants  ranged  on  both  sides ;  to  them  was  introduced  an 
ambassador,   which   part   Socrates   always   used  to  perform 

224 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

himself ;  and  when  he  was  led  up  to  the  footsteps  of  the  throne 
he  addressed  himself  to  the  monarchs  in  some  grave  speech, 
full  of  virtue,  and  goodness,  and  morality,  and  such  like. 
After  which,  he  was  seated  between  the  king  and  queen,  and 
royally  entertained.  This  I  think  was  the  chief  part.  Per- 
haps I  may  have  forgot  some  particulars ;  for  it  is  long  since  I 
read  it."  Adams  said,  it  was,  indeed,  a  diversion  worthy 
the  relaxation  of  so  great  a  man ;  and  thought  something  re- 
sembling it  should  be  instituted  among  our  great  men,  in- 
stead of  cards  and  other  idle  pastime,  in  which,  he  was  in- 
formed, they  trifled  away  too  much  of  their  lives.  He  added, 
the  Christian  religion  was  a  nobler  subject  for  these  speeches 
than  any  Socrates  could  have  invented.  The  gentleman  of 
the  house  approved  what  Mr  Adams  said,  and  declared  he 
was  resolved  to  perform  the  ceremony  this  very  evening.  To 
which  the  doctor  objected,  as  no  one  was  prepared  with  a 
speech,  "  unless,"  said  he  (turning  to  Adams  with  a  gravity 
of  countenance  which  would  have  deceived  a  more  knowing 
man),  "you  have  a  sermon  about  you,  doctor."  "Sir," 
said  Adams,  "  I  never  travel  without  one,  for  fear  of 
what  may  happen."  He  was  easily  prevailed  on  by  his  wor- 
thy friend,  as  he  now  called  the  doctor,  to  undertake  the  part 
of  the  ambassador;  so  that  the  gentleman  sent  immediate 
orders  to  have  the  throne  erected,  which  was  performed 
before  they  had  drank  two  bottles ;  and,  perhaps,  the  reader 
will  hereafter  have  no  great  reason  to  admire  the  nimbleness 
of  the  servants.  Indeed,  to  confess  the  truth,  the  throne  was 
no  more  than  this :  there  was  a  great  tub  of  water  provided, 
on  each  side  of  which  were  placed  two  stools  raised  higher 
than  the  surface  of  the  tub,  and  over  the  whole  was  laid  a 
blanket ;  on  these  stools  were  placed  the  king  and  queen, 
namely,  the  master  of  the  house  and  the  captain.  And  now 
the  ambassador  was  introduced  between  the  poet  and  the 
doctor;  who,  having  read  his  sermon,  to  the  great  entertain- 
ment of  all  present,  was  led  up  to  his  place  and  seated  be- 
tween their  majesties.  They  immediately  rose  up,  when  the 
blanket,  wanting  its  supports  at  either  end,  gave  way,  and 
soused  Adams  over  head  and  ears  in  the  water.  The  captain 
made  his  escape,  but,  unluckily,  the  gentleman  himself  not 
15  225 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

being  as  nimble  as  he  ought,  Adams  caught  hold  of  him  be- 
fore he  descended  from  his  throne,  and  pulled  him  in  with 
him,  to  the  entire  secret  satisfaction  of  all  the  company. 
Adams  after  ducking  the  squire  twice  or  thrice,  leapt  out  of 
the  tub,  and  looked  sharp  for  the  doctor,  whom  he  would 
certainly  have  conveyed  to  the  same  place  of  honour ;  but 
he  had  wisely  withdrawn :  he  then  searched  for  his  crabstick, 
and  having  found  that,  as  well  as  his  fellow  travellers,  he 
declared  he  would  not  stay  a  moment  longer  in  such  a  house. 
He  then  departed,  without  taking  leave  of  his  host,  whom 
he  had  exacted  a  more  severe  revenge  on  than  he  intended; 
for,  as  he  did  not  use  sufficient  care  to  dry  himself  in  time, 
he  caught  a  cold  by  the  accident  which  threw  him  into  a 
fever  that  had  like  to  have  cost  him  his  life. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

WHICH    SOME    READERS    WILL   THINK   TOO    SHORT   AND   OTHERS 

TOO  LONG. 

ADAMS,  and  Joseph,  who  was  no  less  enraged  than  his 
Jl\.  friend  at  the  treatment  he  met  with,  went  out  with  their 
sticks  in  their  hands,  and  carried  off  Fanny,  notwithstanding 
the  opposition  of  the  servants,  who  did  all,  without  proceed- 
ing to  violence,  in  their  power  to  detain  them.  They  walked 
as  fast  as  they  could,  not  so  much  from  any  apprehension  of 
being  pursued  as  that  Mr  Adams  might,  by  exercise,  prevent 
any  harm  from  the  water.  The  gentleman,  who  had  given 
such  orders  to  his  servants  concerning  Fanny  that  he  did  not 
in  the  least  fear  her  getting  away,  no  sooner  heard  that  she 
was  gone,  than  he  began  to  rave,  and  immediately  despatched 
several  with  orders  either  to  bring  her  back  or  never  return. 
The  poet,  the  player,  and  all  but  the  dancing-master  and  doc- 
tor, went  on  this  errand. 

The  night  was  very  dark  in  which  our  friends  began  their 
journey;  however,  they  made  such  expedition,  that  they 
soon  arrived  at  an  inn  which  was  at  seven  miles'  distance. 

226 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

Here  they  unanimously  consented  to  pass  the  evening,  Mr 
Adams  being  now  as  dry  as  he  was  before  he  had  set  out  on 
his  embassy. 

This  inn,  which  indeed  we  might  call  an  ale-house,  had 
not  the  words,  The  New  Inn,  been  writ  on  the  sign,  afforded 
them  no  better  provision  than  bread  and  cheese  and  ale ;  on 
which,  however,  they  made  a  very  comfortable  meal ;  for 
hunger  is  better  than  a  French  cook. 

They  had  no  sooner  supped,  than  Adams,  returning  thanks 
to  the  Almighty  for  his  food,  declared  he  had  ate  his  homely 
commons  with  much  greater  satisfaction  than  his  splendid 
dinner ;  and  expressed  great  contempt  for  the  folly  of  man- 
kind, who  sacrificed  their  hopes  of  heaven  to  the  acquisition 
of  vast  wealth,  since  so  much  comfort  was  to  be  found  in  the 
humblest  state  and  the  lowest  provision.  "  Very  true,  sir," 
says  a  grave  man  who  sat  smoking  his  pipe  by  the  fire,  and 
who  was  a  traveller  as  well  as  himself.  "  I  have  often  been 
as  much  surprized  as  you  are,  when  I  consider  the  value 
which  mankind  in  general  set  on  riches,  since  every  day's 
experience  shows  us  how  little  is  in  their  power;  for  what, 
indeed,  truly  desirable,  can  they  bestow  on  us?  Can  they 
give  beauty  to  the  deformed,  strength  to  the  weak,  or  health 
to  the  infirm  ?  Surely  if  they  could  we  should  not  see  so  many 
ill-favoured  faces  haunting  the  assemblies  of  the  great,  nor 
would  such  numbers  of  feeble  wretches  languish  in  their 
coaches  and  palaces.  No,  not  the  wealth  of  a  kingdom  can 
purchase  any  paint  to  dress  pale  Ugliness  in  the  bloom  of 
that  young  maiden,  nor  any  drugs  to  equip  Disease  with  the 
vigour  of  that  young  man.  Do  not  riches  bring  us  solicitude 
instead  of  rest,  envy  instead  of  affection,  and  danger  instead 
of  safety?  Can  they  prolong  their  own  possession,  or 
lengthen  his  days  who  enjoys  them?  So  far  otherwise,  that 
the  sloth,  the  luxury,  the  care  which  attend  them,  shorten  the 
lives  of  millions,  and  bring  them  with  pain  and  misery  to  an 
untimely  grave.  Where  then  is  their  value  if  they  can 
neither  embellish  nor  strengthen  our  forms,  sweeten  nor  pro- 
long our  lives? — Again:  Can  they  adorn  the  mind  more  than 
the  body?  Do  they  not  rather  swell  the  heart  with  vanity, 
puff  up  the  cheeks  with  pride,  shut  our  ears  to  every  call  of 

227 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

virtue,  and  our  bowels  to  every  motive  of  compassion? 
"  Give  me  your  hand,  brother,"  said  Adams,  in  a  rapture,  "  for 
I  suppose  you  are  a  clergyman." — "  No,  truly,"  answered  the 
other  (indeed,  he  was  a  priest  of  the  church  of  Rome;  but 
those  who  understand  our  laws  will  not  wonder  he  was  not 
over-ready  to  own  it). — "Whatever  you  are,"  cries  Adams, 
"  you  have  spoken  my  sentiments :  I  believe  I  have  preached 
every  syllable  of  your  speech  twenty  times  over ;  for  it  hath 
always  appeared  to  me  easier  for  a  cable-rope  (which  by  the 
way  is  the  true  rendering  of  that  word  we  have  translated 
camel)  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man 
to  get  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." — "  That,  sir,"  said  the 
other,  "  will  be  easily  granted  you  by  divines,  and  is  deplor- 
ably true ;  but  as  the  prospect  of  our  good  at  a  distance  doth 
not  so  forcibly  affect  us,  it  might  be  of  some  service  to  man- 
kind to  be  made  thoroughly  sensible — which  I  think  they 
might  be  with  very  little  serious  attention — that  even  the 
blessings  of  this  world  are  not  to  be  purchased  with  riches; 
a  doctrine,  in  my  opinion,  not  only  metaphysically,  but,  if  I 
may  so  say,  mathematically  demonstrable ;  and  which  I  have 
been  always  so  perfectly  convinced  of  that  I  have  a  contempt 
for  nothing  so  much  as  for  gold."  Adams  now  began  a  long 
discourse :  but  as  most  which  he  said  occurs  among  many 
authors  who  have  treated  this  subject,  I  shall  omit  inserting 
it.  During  its  continuance  Joseph  and  Fanny  retired  to  rest, 
and  the  host  likewise  left  the  room.  When  the  English  par- 
son had  concluded,  the  Romish  resumed  the  discourse,  which 
he  continued  with  great  bitterness  and  invective;  and  at  last 
ended  by  desiring  Adams  to  lend  him  eighteen-pence  to 
pay  his  reckoning ;  promising,  if  he  never  paid  him,  he  might 
be  assured  of  his  prayers.  The  good  man  answered  that 
eighteen-pence  would  be  too  little  to  carry  him  any  very 
long  journey;  that  he  had  half  a  guinea  in  his  pocket,  which 
he  would  divide  with  him.  He  then  fell  to  searching  his 
pockets,  but  could  find  no  money ;  for  indeed  the  company 
with  whom  he  dined  had  passed  one  jest  upon  him  which  we 
did  not  then  enumerate,  and  had  picked  his  pocket  of  all  that 
treasure  which  he  had  so  ostentatiously  produced. 

"  Bless  me !  "  cried  Adams,  "  I  have  certainly  lost  it ;  I  can 

228 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

never  have  spent  it.  Sir,  as  I  am  a  Christian,  I  had  a  whole 
half-guinea  in  my  pocket  this  morning,  and  have  not  now  a 
single  halfpenny  of  it  left.  Sure  the  devil  must  have  taken 
it  from  me !  " — "  Sir,"  answered  the  priest  smiling,  "you  need 
make  no  excuses ;  if  you  are  not  willing  to  lend  me  the  money 
I  am  contented." — "  Sir,"  cries  Adams,  "  if  I  had  the 
greatest  sum  in  the  world — aye,  if  I  had  ten  pounds  about 
me — I  would  bestow  it  all  to  rescue  any  Christian  from  dis- 
tress. I  am  more  vexed  at  my  loss  on  your  account  than  my 
own.  Was  ever  anything  so  unlucky?  Because  I  have  no 
money  in  my  pocket  I  shall  be  suspected  to  be  no  Christian." 
— "  I  am  more  unlucky,"  quoth  the  other,  "  if  you  are  as  gen- 
erous as  you  say ;  for  really  a  crown  would  have  made  me 
happy,  and  conveyed  me  in  plenty  to  the  place  I  am  going, 
which  is  not  above  twenty  miles  off,  and  where  I  can  arrive 
by  to-morrow  night.  I  assure  you  I  am  not  accustomed  to 
travel  pennyless.  I  am  but  just  arrived  in  England;  and  we 
were  forced  by  a  storm  in  our  passage  to  throw  all  we  had 
overboard.  I  don't  suspect  but  this  fellow  will  take  my  word 
for  the  trifle  I  owe  him ;  but  I  hate  to  appear  so  mean  as  to 
confess  myself  without  a  shilling  to  such  people ;  for  these, 
and  indeed  too  many  others,  know  little  difference  in  their 
estimation  between  a  beggar  and  a  thief."  However,  he 
thought  he  should  deal  better  with  the  host  that  evening  than 
the  next  morning:  he  therefore  resolved  to  set  out  immedi- 
ately, notwithstanding  the  darkness ;  and  accordingly,  as  soon 
as  the  host  returned,  he  communicated  to  him  the  situation 
of  his  affairs ;  upon  which  the  host,  scratching  his  head,  an- 
swered, "  Why  I  do  not  know,  master ;  if  it  be  so,  and  you 
have  no  money,  I  must  trust,  I  think,  though  I  had  rather 
always  have  ready  money  if  I  could ;  but,  marry,  you  look 
like  so  honest  a  gentleman  that  I  don't  fear  your  paying  me 
if  it  was  twenty  times  as  much."  The  priest  made  no  re- 
ply, but,  taking  leave  of  him  and  Adams  as  fast  as  he  could, 
not  without  confusion,  and  perhaps  with  some  distrust  of 
Adams's  sincerity,  departed. 

He  was  no  sooner  gone  than  the  host  fell  a  shaking  his 
head,  and  declared,  if  he  had  suspected  the  fellow  had  no 
money,  he  would  not  have  drawn  him  a  single  drop  of  drink, 

229 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

saying  he  despaired  of  ever  seeing  his  face  again,  for  that  he 
looked  like  a  confounded  rogue.  "  Rabbit  the  fellow,"  cries 
he,  "  I  thought,  by  his  talking  so  much  about  riches,  that  he 
had  a  hundred  pounds  at  least  in  his  pocket."  Adams  chid 
him  for  his  suspicions,  which,  he  said,  were  not  becoming  a 
Christian ;  and  then,  without  reflecting  on  his  loss,  or  con- 
sidering how  he  himself  should  depart  in  the  morning,  he  re- 
tired to  a  very  homely  bed,  as  his  companions  had  before; 
however,  health  and  fatigue  gave  them  a  sweeter  repose  than 
is  often  in  the  power  of  velvet  and  down  to  bestow. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CONTAINING  AS  SURPRIZING  AND  BLOODY  ADVENTURES  AS  CAN 
BE  FOUND  IN  THIS  OR  PERHAPS  ANY  OTHER  AUTHENTIC 
HISTORY. 

IT  was  almost  morning  when  Joseph  Andrews,  whose  eyes 
the  thoughts  of  his  dear  Fanny  had  opened,  as  he  lay 
fondly  meditating  on  that  lovely  creature,  heard  a  violent 
knocking  at  the  door  over  which  he  lay.  He  presently  jumped 
out  of  bed,  and,  opening  the  window,  was  asked  if  there  were 
no  travellers  in  the  house?  and  presently,  by  another  voice, 
if  two  men  and  a  young  woman  had  not  taken  up  their  lodg- 
ings there  that  night?  Though  he  knew  not  the  voices,  he 
began  to  entertain  a  suspicion  of  the  truth — for  indeed  he 
had  received  some  information  from  one  of  the  servants  of 
the  squire's  house  of  his  design — and  answered  in  the  negative. 
One  of  the  servants,  who  knew  the  host  well,  called  out  to  him 
by  his  name  just  as  he  had  opened  another  window,  and 
asked  him  the  same  question ;  to  which  he  answered  in  the 
affirmative.  O  ho!  said  another,  have  we  found  you?  and 
ordered  the  host  to  come  down  and  open  the  door.  Fanny, 
who  was  as  wakeful  as  Joseph,  no  sooner  heard  all  this  than 
she  leaped  from  her  bed,  and,  hastily  putting  on  her  gown 
and  petticoats,  ran  as  fast  as  possible  to  Joseph's  room,  who 
then  was  almost  drest.  He  immediately  let  her  in,  and,  em- 
bracing her  with  the  most  passionate  tenderness,  bid  her  fear 

230 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

nothing,  for  he  would  die  in  her  defence.  "  Is  that  a  reason 
why  I  should  not  fear,"  says  she,  "  when  I  should  lose  what 
is  dearer  to  me  than  the  whole  world  ?  "  Joseph,  then  kissing 
her  hand,  said,  he  could  almost  thank  the  occasion  which  had 
extorted  from  her  a  tenderness  she  would  never  indulge  him 
with  before.  He  then  ran  and  waked  his  bedfellow  Adams, 
who  was  yet  fast  asleep,  notwithstanding  many  calls  from 
Joseph ;  but  was  no  sooner  made  sensible  of  their  danger  than 
he  leaped  from  his  bed,  without  considering  the  presence  of 
Fanny,  who  hastily  turned  her  face  from  him,  and  enjoyed 
a  double  benefit  from  the  dark,  which,  as  it  would  have  pre- 
vented any  offence  to  an  innocence  less  pure,  or  a  modesty  less 
delicate,  so  it  concealed  even  those  blushes  which  were  raised 
in  her. 

Adams  had  soon  put  on  all  his  clothes  but  his  breeches, 
which,  in  the  hurry,  he  forgot ;  however,  they  were  pretty  well 
supplied  by  the  length  of  his  other  garments ;  .and  now,  the 
house-door  being  opened,  the  captain,  the  poet,  the  player,  and 
three  servants,  came  in.  The  captain  told  the  host  that  two 
fellows,  who  were  in  his  house,  had  run  away  with  a  young 
woman,  and  desired  to  know  in  which  room  she  lay.  The 
host,  who  presently  believed  the  story,  directed  them,  and 
instantly  the  captain  and  poet,  jostling  one  another,  ran  up. 
The  poet,  who  was  the  nimblest,  entering  the  chamber  first, 
searched  the  bed,  and  every  other  part,  but  to  no  purpose ; 
the  bird  was  flown,  as  the  impatient  reader,  who  might  other- 
wise have  been  in  pain  for  her,  was  before  advertised.  They 
then  inquired  where  the  men  lay,  and  were  approaching  the 
chamber,  when  Joseph  roared  out,  in  a  loud  voice,  that  he 
would  shoot  the  first  man  who  offered  to  attack  the  door.  The 
captain  inquired  what  fire-arms  they  had ;  to  which  the  host 
answered,  he  believed  they  had  none ;  nay,  he  was  almost  con- 
vinced of  it,  for  he  had  heard  one  ask  the  other  in  the  even- 
ing what  they  should  have  done  if  they  had  been  overtaken, 
when  they  had  no  arms ;  to  which  the  other  answered,  they 
would  have  defended  themselves  with  their  sticks  as  long  as 
they  were  able,  and  God  would  assist  a  just  cause.  This  satis- 
fied the  captain,  but  not  the  poet,  who  prudently  retreated 
down-stairs,  saying,  it  was  his  business  to  record  great  actions, 
and  not  to  do  them.    The  captain  was  no  sooner  well  satis- 

231 


ft 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

fied  that  there  were  no  fire-arms  than,  bidding  defiance  to 
gunpowder,  and  swearing  he  loved  the  smell  of  it,  he  ordered 
the  servants  to  follow  him,  and,  marching  boldly  up,  im- 
mediately attempted  to  force  the  door,  which  the  servants  soon 
helped  him  to  accomplish.  When  it  was  opened,  they  dis- 
covered the  enemy  drawn  up  three  deep ;  Adams  in  the  front, 
and  Fanny  in  the  rear.  The  captain  told  Adams  that  if  they 
would  go  all  back  to  the  house  again  they  should  be  civilly 
treated ;  but  unless  they  consented  he  had  orders  to  carry  the 
young  lady  with  him,  whom  there  was  great  reason  to  believe 
they  had  stolen  from  her  parents;  for,  notwithstanding  her 
disguise,  her  air,  which  she  could  not  conceal,  sufficiently  dis- 
covered her  birth  to  be  infinitely  superior  to  theirs.  Fanny, 
bursting  into  tears,  solemnly  assured  him  he  was  mistaken; 
that  she  was  a  poor  helpless  foundling,  and  had  no  relation 
in  the  world  which  she  knew  of;  and,  throwing  herself  on 
her  knees,  begged  that  he  would  not  attempt  to  take  her  from 
her  friends,  who,  she  was  convinced,  would  die  before  they 
would  lose  her;  which  Adams  confirmed  with  words  not  far 
from  amounting  to  an  oath.  The  captain  swore  he  had  no 
leisure  to  talk,  and,  bidding  them  thank  themselves  for  what 
happened,  he  ordered  the  servants  to  fall  on,  at  the  same  time 
endeavouring  to  pass  by  Adams,  in  order  to  lay  hold  on 
Fanny;  but  the  parson,  interrupting  him,  received  a  blow 
from  one  of  them,  which,  without  considering  whence  it 
came,  he  returned  to  the  captain,  and  gave  him  so  dexterous 
a  knock  in  that  part  of  the  stomach  which  is  vulgarly  called 
the  pit,  that  he  staggered  some  paces  backwards.  The  cap- 
tain, who  was  not  accustomed  to  this  kind  of  play,  and  who 
wisely  apprehended  the  consequence  of  such  another  blow, 
two  of  them  seeming  to  him  equal  to  a  thrust  through  the 
body,  drew  forth  his  hanger,  as  Adams  approached  him,  and 
was  levelling  a  blow  at  his  head  which  would  probably  have 
silenced  the  preacher  for  ever,  had  not  Joseph  in  that  instant 
lifted  up  a  certain  huge  stone  pot  of  the  chamber  with  one 
hand,  which  six  beaux  could  not  have  lifted  with  both,  and 
discharged  it,  together  with  the  contents,  full  in  the  captain's 
face.  The  uplifted  hanger  dropped  from  his  hand,  and  he  fell 
prostrated  on  the  floor  with  a  lumpish  noise,  and  his  halfpence 
rattled  in  his  pocket;  the  red  liquor  which  his  veins  contained, 

232 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

and  the  white  liquor  which  the  pot  contained,  ran  in  one 
stream  down  his  face  and  his  clothes.  Nor  had  Adams  quite 
escaped,  some  of  the  water  having  in  its  passage  shed  its 
honours  on  his  head,  and  began  to  trickle  down  the  wrinkles 
or  rather  furrows  of  his  cheeks,  when  one  of  the  servants, 
snatching  a  mop  out  of  a  pail  of  water,  which  had  already 
done  its  duty  in  washing  the  house,  pushed  it  in  the  parson's 
face;  yet  could  not  he  bear  him  down,  for  the  parson,  wrest- 
ing the  mop  from  the  fellow  with  one  hand,  with  the  other 
brought  his  enemy  as  low  as  the  earth,  having  given  him 
a  stroke  over  that  part  of  the  face  where,  in  some  men  of 
pleasure,  the  natural  and  artificial  noses  are  conjoined. 

Hitherto,  Fortune  seemed  to  incline  the  victory  on  the 
travellers'  side,  when,  according  to  her  custom,  she  began  to 
show  the  fickleness  of  her  disposition ;  for  now  the  host,  enter- 
ing the  field,  or  rather  chamber  of  battle,  flew  directly  at 
Joseph,  and,  darting  his  head  into  his  stomach  (for  he  was 
a  stout  fellow  and  an  expert  boxer),  almost  staggered  him: 
but  Joseph  stepping  one  leg  back,  did  with  his  left  hand  so 
chuck  him  under  the  chin  that  he  reeled.  The  youth  was 
pursuing  his  blow  with  his  right  hand  when  he  received  from 
one  of  the  servants  such  a  stroke  with  a  cudgel  on  his  temples, 
that  it  instantly  deprived  him  of  sense,  and  he  measured  his 
length  on  the  ground. 

Fanny  rent  the  air  with  her  cries,  and  Adams  was  coming 
to  the  assistance  of  Joseph ;  but  the  two  serving-men  and 
the  host  now  fell  on  him,  and  soon  subdued  him,  though  he 
fought  like  a  madman,  and  looked  so  black  with  the  im- 
pressions he  had  received  from  the  mop,  that  Don  Quixote 
would  certainly  have  taken  him  for  an  enchanted  Moor.  But 
now  follows  the  most  tragical  part ;  for  the  captain  was  risen 
again,  and,  seeing  Joseph  on  the  floor,  and  Adams  secured, 
he  instantly  laid  hold  on  Fanny,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
the  poet  and  player,  who,  hearing  the  battle  was  over,  were 
now  come  up,  dragged  her,  crying  and  tearing  her  hair,  from 
the  sight  of  her  Joseph,  and,  with  a  perfect  deafness  to  all 
her  entreaties,  carried  her  down-stairs  by  violence,  and  fas- 
tened her  on  the  player's  horse;  and  the  captain,  mounting 
his  own,  and  leading  that  on  which  this  poor  miserable  wretch 
was,  departed,  without  any  more  consideration  of  her  cries 

233 


THE    ADVENTURES    OF 

than  a  butcher  hath  of  those  of  a  lamb ;  for  indeed  his  thoughts 
were  entertained  only  with  the  degree  of  favour  which  he 
promised  himself  from  the  squire  on  the  success  of  this  ad- 
venture. 

The  servants,  who  were  ordered  to  secure  Adams  and  Jo- 
seph as  safe  as  possible,  that  the  squire  might  receive  no  in- 
terruption to  his  design  on  poor  Fanny,  immediately,  by  the 
poet's  advice,  tied  Adams  to  one  of  the  bed-posts,  as  they  did 
Joseph  on  the  other  side,  as  soon  as  they  could  bring  him 
to  himself ;  and  then,  leaving  them  together,  back  to  back,  and 
desiring  the  host  not  to  set  them  at  liberty,  nor  to  go  near 
them,  till  he  had  further  orders,  they  departed  towards  their 
master ;  but  happened  to  take  a  different  road  from  that  which 
the  captain  had  fallen  into. 


CHAPTER    X. 


A    DISCOUSE    BETWEEN    THE    POET    AND    THE    PLAYER;    OF    NO 
OTHER  USE  IN  THIS  HISTORY  BUT  TO  DIVERT  THE  READER. 

BEFORE  we  proceed  any  farther  in  this  tragedy  we 
shall  leave  Mr  Joseph  and  Mr  Adams  to  themselves, 
and  imitate  the  wise  conductors  of  the  stage,  who  in  the  midst 
of  a  grave  action  entertain  you  with  some  excellent  piece  of 
satire  or  humour  called  a  dance.  Which  piece,  indeed,  is 
therefore  danced,  and  not  spoke,  as  it  is  delivered  to  the  au- 
dience by  persons  whose  thinking  faculty  is  by  most  people 
held  to  lie  in  their  heels ;  and  to  whom,  as  well  as  heroes,  who 
think  with  their  hands,  Nature  hath  only  given  heads  for  the 
sake  of  conformity,  and  as  they  are  of  no  use  in  dancing,  to 
hang  their  hats  on. 

The  poet,  addressing  the  player,  proceeded  thus,  "  As  I  was 
saying"  (for  they  had  been  at  this  discourse  all  the  time  of 
the  engagement  above-stairs),  "  the  reason  you  have  no  good 
new  plays  is  evident ;  it  is  from  your  discouragement  of  au- 
thors. Gentlemen  will  not  write,  sir,  they  will  not  write, 
without  the  expectation  of  fame  or  profit,  or  perhaps  both. 
Plays  are  like  trees,  which  will  not  grow  without  nourishment ; 

234 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

but,  like  mushrooms,  they  shoot  up  spontaneously,  as  it  were, 
in  a  rich  soil.  The  muses,  like  vines,  may  be  pruned,  but 
not  with  a  hatchet.  The  town,  like  a  peevish  child,  knows 
not  what  it  desires,  and  is  always  best  pleased  with  a  rattle. 
A  farce-writer  hath  indeed  some  chance  for  success :  but  they 
have  lost  all  taste  for  the  sublime.  Though  I  believe  one 
reason  of  their  depravity  is  the  badness  of  the  actors.  If  a 
man  writes  like  an  angel,  sir,  those  fellows  know  not  how  to 
give  a  sentiment  utterance." — "  Not  so  fast,"  says  the  player : 
"  the  modern  actors  are  as  good  at  least  as  their  authors,  nay, 
they  come  nearer  their  illustrious  predecessors ;  and  I  expect 
a  Booth  on  the  stage  again,  sooner  than  a  Shakspeare  or  an 
Otway;  and  indeed  I  may  turn  your  observation  against  you, 
and  with  truth  say,  that  the  reason  no  authors  are  encouraged 
is  because  we  have  no  good  new  plays." — "  I  have  not  affirmed 
the  contrary,"  said  the  poet ;  "  but  I  am  surprized  you  grow 
so  warm ;  you  cannot  imagine  yourself  interested  in  this  dis- 
pute ;  I  hope  you  have  a  better  opinion  of  my  taste  than  to 
apprehend  I  squinted  at  yourself.  No,  sir,  if  we  had  six  such 
actors  as  you,  we  should  soon  rival  the  Bettertons  and  Sand- 
fords  of  former  times ;  for,  without  a  compliment  to  you,  I 
think  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  have  excelled  you  in  most 
of  your  parts.  Nay,  it  is  solemn  truth,  and  I  have  heard 
many,  and  all  great  judges,  express  as  much ;  and,  you  will 
pardon  me  if  I  tell  you,  I  think  every  time  I  have  seen  you 
lately  you  have  constantly  acquired  some  new  excellence,  like 
a  snowball.  You  have  deceived  me  in  my  estimation  of  per- 
fection, and  have  outdone  what  I  thought  inimitable." — "  You 
are  as  little  interested,"  answered  the  player,  "  in  what  I  have 
said  of  other  poets  ;  for  d — n  me  if  there  are  not  manly  strokes, 
aye,  whole  scenes,  in  your  last  tragedy,  which  at  least  equal 
Shakspeare.  There  is  a  delicacy  of  sentiment,  a  dignity  of 
expression  in  it,  which  I  will  own  many  of  our  gentlemen 
did  not  do  adequate  justice  to.  To  confess  the  truth,  they 
are  bad  enough,  and  I  pity  an  author  who  is  present  at  the 
murder  of  his  works." — "  Nay,  it  is  but  seldom  that  it  can 
happen,"  returned  the  poet ;  "  the  works  of  most  modern 
authors,  like  dead-born  children,  cannot  be  murdered.  It  is 
such  wretched  half-begotten,  half-writ,  lifeless,  spiritless,  low, 
grovelling  stuff,  that  I  almost  pity  the  actor  who  is  obliged 

235 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  get  it  by  heart,  which  must  be  almost  as  difficult  to  remem- 
ber as  words  in  a  language  you  don't  understand." — "  I  am 
sure,"  said  the  player,  "  if  the  sentences  have  little  meaning 
when  they  are  writ,  when  they  are  spoken  they  have  less. 
I  know  scarce  one  who  ever  lays  an  emphasis  right,  and 
much  less  adapts  his  action  to  his  character.  I  have  seen  a 
tender  lover  in  an  attitude  of  fighting  with  his  mistress,  and  a 
brave  hero  suing  to  his  enemy  with  his  sword  in  his  hand. 
I  don't  care  to  abuse  my  profession,  but  rot  me  if  in  my 
heart  I  am  not  inclined  to  the  poet's  side." — "  It  is  rather 
generous  in  you  than  just,"  said  the  poet;  "and,  though  I 
hate  to  speak  ill  of  any  person's  production, — nay,  I  never 
do  it,  nor  will, — but  yet,  to  do  justice  to  the  actors,  what 
could  Booth  or  Betterton  have  made  of  such  horrible  stuff  as 
Fenton's  Mariamne,  Frowde's  Philotas,  or  Mallet's  Eurydice; 
or  those  low,  dirty,  last-dying-speeches,  which  a  fellow  in 
the  city  of  Wapping,  your  Dillo  or  Lillo,  what  was  his  name, 
called  tragedies  ?  " — "  Very  well,"  says  the  player ;  "  and  pray 
what  do  you  think  of  such  fellows  as  Quin  and  Delane,  or 
that  face-making  puppy  young  Cibber,  that  ill-looked  dog 
Macklin,  or  that  saucy  slut  Mrs  Clive?  What  work  would 
they  make  with  your  Shakspears,  Otways,  and  Lees?  How 
would  those  harmonious  lines  of  the  last  come  from  their 
tongues  ? — 

"' No  more;  for  I  disdain 


All  pomp  when  thou  art  by :  far  be  the  noise 
Of  kings  and  crowns  from  us,  whose  gentle  souls 
Our  kinder  fates  have  steer'd  another  way. 
Free  as  the  forest  birds  we'll  pair  together, 
Without  rememb'ring  who  our  fathers  were: 
Fly  to  the  arbours,  grots,  and  flow'ry  meads ; 
There  in  soft  murmurs  interchange  our  souls ; 
Together  drink  the  crystal  of  the  stream, 
Or  taste  the  yellow  fruit  which  autumn  yields, 
And,  when  the  golden  evening  calls  us  home, 
Wing  to  our  downy  nests,  and  sleep  till  morn.' " 

Or  how  would  this  disdain  of  Otway — 

"Who  'd  be  that  foolish  sordid  thing  called  man?"' 

236 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

"  Hold !  hold !  hold !  "  said  the  poet :  "  Do  repeat  that  tender 
speech  in  the  third  act  of  my  play  which  you  made  such  a 
figure  in." — "  I  would  willingly,"  said  the  player,  "  but  I  have 
forgot  it." — "  Aye,  you  was  not  quite  perfect  enough  in  it 
when  you  played  it,"  cries  the  poet,  "  or  you  would  have  had 
such  an  applause  as  was  never  given  on  the  stage ;  an  applause 
I  was  extremely  concerned  for  your  losing." — "  Sure,"  says 
the  player,  "  if  I  remember,  that  was  hissed  more  than  any 
passage  in  the  whole  play." — "  Aye,  your  speaking  it  was 
hissed,"  said  the  poet. — "  My  speaking  it !  "  said  the  player. — 
"  I  mean  your  not  speaking  it,"  said  the  poet.  "  You  was  out, 
and  then  they  hissed." — "  They  hissed,  and  then  I  was  out, 
if  I  remember,"  answered  the  player;  "and  I  must  say  this 
for  myself,  that  the  whole  audience  allowed  I  did  your  part 
justice;  so  don't  lay  the  damnation  of  your  play  to  my  ac- 
count."— "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  damnation,"  re- 
plied the  poet. — "  Why,  you  know  it  was  acted  but  one  night," 
cried  the  player. — "  No,"  said  the  poet,  "  you  and  the  whole 
town  were  enemies ;  the  pit  were  all  my  enemies,  fellows  that 
would  cut  my  throat,  if  the  fear  of  hanging  did  not  restrain 
them.  All  tailors,  sir,  all  tailors." — "  Why  should  the  tailors 
be  so  angry  with  you  ?  "  cries  the  player.  "  I  suppose  you 
don't  employ  so  many  in  making  your  clothes." — "  I  admit 
your  jest,"  answered  the  poet ;  "  but  you  remember  the  affair 
as  well  as  myself ;  you  know  there  was  a  party  in  the  pit  and 
upper-gallery  that  would  not  suffer  it  to  be  given  out  again ; 
though  much,  aye  infinitely,  the  majority,  all  the  boxes  in 
particular,  were  desirous  of  it;  nay,  most  of  the  ladies  swore 
they  never  would  come  to  the  house  till  it  was  acted  again. 
Indeed,  I  must  own  their  policy  was  good  in  not  letting  it  be 
given  out  a  second  time :  for  the  rascals  knew  if  it  had 
gone  a  second  night  it  would  have  run  fifty ;  for  if  ever 
there  was  distress  in  a  tragedy, — I  am  not  fond  of  my  own 
performance;  but  if  I  should  tell  you  what  the  best  judges 

said  of  it Nor  was  it  entirely  owing  to  my  enemies  neither 

that  it  did  not  succeed  on  the  stage  as  well  as  it  hath  since 
among  the  polite  readers  ;  for  you  can't  say  it  had  justice  done 
it  by  the  performers." — "  I  think,"  answered  the  player,  "  the 
performers  did  the  distress  of  it  justice;  for  I  am  sure  we 
were  in  distress  enough,  who  were  pelted  with  oranges  all  the 

23/ 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

last  act:  we  all  imagined  it  would  have  been  the  last  act  of 
our  lives." 

The  poet,  whose  fury  was  now  raised,  had  just  attempted 
to  answer  when  they  were  interrupted,  and  an  end  put  to 
their  discourse,  by  an  accident,  which  if  the  reader  is  impa- 
tient to  know,  he  must  skip  over  the  next  chapter,  which  is  a 
sort  of  counterpart  to  this,  and  contains  some  of  the  best  and 
gravest  matters  in  the  whole  book,  being  a  discourse  between 
parson  Abraham  Adams  and  Mr  Joseph  Andrews. 


CHAPTER   XL 

CONTAINING  THE  EXHORTATIONS  OF  PARSON  ADAMS  TO  HIS 
FRIEND  IN  AFFLICTION  ;  CALCULATED  FOR  THE  INSTRUCTION 
AND   IMPROVEMENT  OF  THE  READER. 

JOSEPH  no  sooner  came  perfectly  to  himself  than,  per- 
ceiving his  mistress  gone,  he  bewailed  her  loss  with  groans 
which  would  have  pierced  any  heart  but  those  which  are 
possessed  by  some  people,  and  are  made  of  a  certain  compo- 
sition, not  unlike  flint  in  its  hardness  and  other  properties; 
for  you  may  strike  fire  from  them,  which  will  dart  through 
the  eyes,  but  they  can  never  distil  one  drop  of  water  the 
same  way.  His  own,  poor  youth !  was  of  a  softer  composi- 
tion ;  and  at  those  words,  O  my  dear  Fanny !  O  my  love ! 
shall  I  never,  never  see  thee  more?  his  eves  overflowed  with 
tears,  which  would  have  become  any  but  a  hero.  In  a  word, 
his  despair  was  more  easy  to  be  conceived  than  related. 

Mr  Adams,  after  many  groans,  sitting  with  his  back  to 
Joseph,  began  thus  in  a  sorrowful  tone:  "You  cannot  im- 
agine, my  good  child,  that  I  entirely  blame  these  first  agonies 
of  your  grief;  for,  when  misfortunes  attack  us  by  surprize, 
it  must  require  infinitely  more  learning  than  you  are  master 
of  to  resist  them ;  but  it  is  the  business  of  a  man  and  a  Chris- 
tian to  summon  Reason  as  quickly  as  he  can  to  his  aid;  and 
she  will  presently  teach  him  patience  and  submission.  Be 
comforted,  therefore,  child ;  I  say  be  comforted.  It  is  true, 
you  have  lost  the  prettiest,  kindest,  loveliest,  sweetest  young 

238 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

woman,  one  with  whom  you  might  have  expected  to  have 
lived  in  happiness,  virtue,  and  innocence ;  by  whom  you  might 
have  promised  yourself  many  little  darlings,  who  would  have 
been  the  delight  of  your  youth  and  the  comfort  of  your  age. 
You  have  not  only  lost  her,  but  have  reason  to  fear  the  ut- 
most violence  which  lust  and  power  can  inflict  upon  her. 
Now,  indeed,  you  may  easily  raise  ideas  of  horror,  which 
might  drive  you  to  despair." — "  O  I  shall  run  mad !  "  cries 
Joseph.  "  O  that  I  could  but  command  my  hands  to  tear  my 
eyes  out  and  my  flesh  off !  " — "  If  you  would  use  them  to  such 
purposes,  I  am  glad  you  can't,"  answered  Adams.  "  I  have 
stated  your  misfortune  as  strong  as  I  possibly  can ;  but,  on 
the  other  side,  you  are  to  consider  you  arc  a  Christian,  that  no 
accident  happens  to  us  without  the  Divine  permission,  and 
that  it  is  the  duty  of  a  man,  much  more  of  a  Christian,  to 
submit.  We  did  not  make  ourselves ;  but  the  same  power 
which  made  us  rules  over  us,  and  we  are  absolutely  at  his 
disposal ;  he  may  do  with  us  what  he  pleases,  nor  have  we  any 
right  to  complain.  A  second  reason  against  our  complaint 
is  our  ignorance ;  for,  as  we  know  not  future  events,  so 
neither  can  we  tell  to  what  purpose  any  accident  tends ;  and 
that  which  at  first  threatens  us  with  evil  may  in  the  end  pro- 
duce our  good.  I  should  indeed  have  said  our  ignorance  is 
twofold  (but  I  have  not  at  present  time  to  divide  properly), 
for,  as  we  know  not  to  what  purpose  any  event  is  ultimately 
directed,  so  neither  can  we  affirm  from  what  cause  it  origi- 
nally sprung.  You  are  a  man,  and  consequently  a  sinner ;  and 
this  may  be  a  punishment  to  you  for  your  sins :  indeed  in 
this  sense  it  may  be  esteemed  as  a  good,  yea,  as  the 
greatest  good,  which  satisfies  the  anger  of  Heaven,  and  averts 
that  wrath  which  cannot  continue  without  our  destruction. 
Thirdly,  our  impotency  of  relieving  ourselves  demonstrates 
the  folly  and  absurdity  of  our  complaints :  for  whom  do  we 
resist,  or  against  whom  do  we  complain,  but  a  power  from 
whose  shafts  no  armour  can  guard  us,  no  speed  can  fly? — 
a  power  which  leaves  us  no  hope  but  in  submission."  "  O 
sir !  "  cried  Joseph,  "  all  this  is  very  true,  and  very  fine,  and  I 
could  hear  you  all  day  if  I  was  not  so  grieved  at  heart  as  now 
I  am." — "  Would  you  take  physic,"  says  Adams,  "  when  you 
are  well,  and  refuse  it  when  you  are  sick?     Is  not  comfort 

239 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  be  administered  to  the  afflicted,  and  not  to  those  who  re- 
joice or  those  who  are  at  ease?  "  "  O !  you  have  not  spoken 
one  word  of  comfort  to  me  yet !  "  returned  Joseph.  "  No !  " 
cries  Adams ;  "  what  am  I  then  doing  ?  what  can  I  say  to 
comfort  you  ?  "  "  O  tell  me,"  cries  Joseph,  "  that  Fanny  will 
escape  back  to  my  arms,  that  they  shall  again  enclose  that 
lovely  creature,  with  all  her  sweetness,  all  her  untainted  inno- 
cence about  her !  "  "  Why,  perhaps  you  may,"  cries  Adams, 
"  but  I  can't  promise  you  what's  to  come.  You  must,  with 
perfect  resignation,  wait  the  event:  if  she  be  restored  to  you 
again,  it  is  your  duty  to  be  thankful,  and  so  it  is  if  she  be  not. 
Joseph,  if  you  are  wise  and  truly  know  your  own  interest, 
you  will  peaceably  and  quietly  submit  to  all  the  dispensations 
of  Providence,  being  thoroughly  assured  that  all  the  misfor- 
tunes, how  great  soever,  which  happen  to  the  righteous,  hap- 
pen to  them  for  their  own  good.  Nay,  it  is  not  your  interest 
only,  but  your  duty,  to  abstain  from  immoderate  grief ;  which 
if  you  indulge,  you  are  not  worthy  the  name  of  a  Christian." 
He  spoke  these  last  words  with  an  accent  a  little  severer  than 
usual :  upon  which  Joseph  begged  him  not  to  be  angry,  saying, 
he  mistook  him  if  he  thought  he  denied  it  was  his  duty,  for 
he  had  known  that  long  ago.  "  What  signifies  knowing  your 
duty,  if  you  do  not  perform  it  ?  "  answered  Adams.  "  Your 
knowledge  increases  your  guilt.  O  Joseph !  I  never  thought 
you  had  this  stubbornness  in  your  mind."  Joseph  replied, 
"  He  fancied  he  misunderstood  him ;  which  I  assure  you," 
says  he,  "  you  do,  if  you  imagine  I  endeavour  to  grieve ;  upon 
my  soul  I  don't."  Adams  rebuked  him  for  swearing,  and  then 
proceeded  to  enlarge  on  the  folly  of  grief,  telling  him,  all  the 
wise  men  and  philosophers,  even  among  the  heathens,  had 
written  against  it,  quoting  several  passages  from  Seneca,  and 
the  consolation,  which,  though  it  was  not  Cicero's,  was,  he 
said,  as  good  almost  as  any  of  his  works ;  and  concluded  all 
by  hinting  that  immoderate  grief  in  this  case  might  incense 
that  power  which  alone  could  restore  him  his  Fanny.  This 
reason,  or  indeed  rather  the  idea  which  it  raised  of  the  res- 
toration of  his  mistress,  had  more  effect  than  all  which  the 
parson  had  said  before,  and  for  a  moment  abated  his  agonies; 
but,  when  his  fears  sufficiently  set  before  his  eyes  the  dan- 
ger that  poor  creature  was  in,  his  grief  returned  again  with 

240 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

repeated  violence,  nor  could  Adams  in  the  least  assuage  it; 
though  it  may  be  doubted  in  his  behalf  whether  Socrates  him- 
self could  have  prevailed  any  better. 

They  remained  some  time  in  silence,  and  groans  and  sighs 
issued  from  them  both;  at  length  Joseph  burst  out  into  the 
following  soliloquy : — 

"  Yes,  I  will  bear  my  sorrows  like  a  man, 
But  I  must  also  feel  them  as  a  man. 
I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were, 
And  were  most  dear  to  me." 

Adams  asked  him  what  stuff  that  was  he  repeated?  To 
which  he  answered,  they  were  some  lines  he  had  gotten  by 
heart  out  of  a  play.  "  Aye,  there  is  nothing  but  heathenism 
to  be  learned  from  plays,"  replied  he.  "  I  never  heard  of 
any  plays  fit  for  a  Christian  to  read,  but  Cato  and  the  Con- 
scious Lovers ;  and,  I  must  own,  in  the  latter  there  are  some 
things  almost  solemn  enough  for  a  sermon."  But  we  shall 
now  leave  them  a  little,  and  enquire  after  the  subject  of  their 
conversation. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

MORE  ADVENTURES,    WHICH    WE   HOPE   WILL  AS   MUCH   PLEASE 
AS  SURPRIZE  THE  READER. 

NEITHER  the  facetious  dialogue  which  passed  between 
the  poet  and  the  player,  nor  the  grave  and  truly  solemn 
discourse  of  Mr  Adams,  will,  we  conceive,  make  the  reader 
sufficient  amends  for  the  anxiety  which  he  must  have  felt  on 
the  account  of  poor  Fanny,  whom  we  left  in  so  deplorable  a 
condition.  We  shall  therefore  now  proceed  to  the  relation  of 
what  happened  to  that  beautiful  and  innocent  virgin,  after 
she  fell  into  the  wicked  hands  of  the  captain. 

The  man  of  war,  having  conveyed  his  charming  prize  out 

of  the  inn  a  little  before  day,  made  the  utmost  expedition  in 

his  power  towards   the   squire's   house,   where  this   delicate 

creature  was  to  be  offered  up  a  sacrifice  to  the  lust  of  a  rav- 

16  241 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

isher.  He  was  not  only  deaf  to  all  her  bewailings  and  en- 
treaties on  the  road,  but  accosted  her  ears  with  impurities 
which,  having  been  never  before  accustomed  to  them,  she 
happily  for  herself  very  little  understood.  At  last  he  changed 
his  note,  and  attempted  to  soothe  and  mollify  her,  by  setting 
forth  the  splendour  and  luxury  which  would  be  her  fortune 
with  a  man  who  would  have  the  inclination,  and  power  too, 
to  give  her  whatever  her  utmost  wishes  could  desire ;  and 
told  her  he  doubted  not  but  she  would  soon  look  kinder  on 
him,  as  the  instrument  of  her  happiness,  and  despise  that 
pitiful  fellow  whom  her  ignorance  only  could  make  her  fond 
of.  She  answered,  she  knew  not  whom  he  meant ;  she  never 
was  fond  of  any  pitiful  fellow.  "  Are  you  affronted,  madam," 
says  he,  "  at  my  calling  him  so  ?  But  what  better  can  be 
said  of  one  in  a  livery,  notwithstanding  your  fondness  for 
him  ?  "  She  returned,  that  she  did  not  understand  him,  that 
the  man  had  been  her  fellow-servant,  and  she  believed  was 
as  honest  a  creature  as  any  alive ;  but  as  for  fondness  for 
men — "  I  warrant  ye,"  cries  the  captain,  "  we  shall  find  means 
to  persuade  you  to  be  fond ;  and  I  advise  you  to  yield  to  gen- 
tle ones,  for  you  may  be  assured  that  it  is  not  in  your  power, 
by  any  struggles  whatever,  to  preserve  your  virginity 
two  hours  longer.  It  will  be  your  interest  to  consent ;  for  the 
squire  will  be  much  kinder  to  you  if  he  enjoys  you  willingly 
than  by  force."  At  which  words  she  began  to  call  aloud 
for  assistance  (for  it  was  now  open  day),  but,  finding  none, 
she  lifted  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  supplicated  the  Divine  as- 
sistance to  preserve  her  innocence.  The  captain  told  her, 
if  she  persisted  in  her  vociferation,  he  would  find  a  means  of 
stopping  her  mouth.  And  now  the  poor  wretch,  perceiv- 
ing no  hopes  of  succour,  abandoned  herself  to  despair,  and, 
sighing  out  the  name  of  Joseph !  Joseph !  a  river  of  tears 
ran  down  her  lovely  cheeks,  and  wet  the  handkerchief  which 
covered  her  bosom.  A  horseman  now  appeared  in  the  road, 
upon  which  the  captain  threatened  her  violently  if  she  com- 
plained ;  however,  the  moment  they  approached  each  other 
she  begged  him  with  the  utmost  earnestness  to  relieve  a  dis- 
tressed creature  who  was  in  the  hands  of  a  ravisher.  The 
fellow  stopt  at  these  words,  but  the  captain  assured  him  it 

242 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

was  his  wife,  and  that  he  was  carrying  her  home  from  her 
adulterer,  which  so  satisfied  the  fellow,  who  was  an  old  one 
(and  perhaps  a  married  one  too),  that  he  wished  him  a  good 
journey,  and  rode  on.  He  was  no  sooner  past  than  the  cap- 
tain abused  her  violently  for  breaking  his  commands,  and 
threatened  to  gag  her,  when  two  more  horsemen,  armed  with 
pistols,  came  into  the  road  just  before  them.  She  again  so- 
licited their  assistance,  and  the  captain  told  the  same  story 
as  before.  Upon  which  one  said  to  the  other,  '  That's  a 
charming  wench,  Jack ;  I  wish  I  had  been  in  the  fellow's 
place,  whoever  he  is."  But  the  other,  instead  of  answering 
him,  cried  out,  "  Zounds,  I  know  her ;  "  and  then,  turning  to 
her,  said,  "Sure  you  are  not  Fanny  Goodwill?" — "Indeed, 
indeed,  I  am,"  she  cried — "  O  John !  I  know  you  now — 
Heaven  hath  sent  you  to  my  assistance,  to  deliver  me  from 
this  wicked  man,  who  is  carrying  me  away  for  his  vile  pur- 
poses— O  for  God's  sake  rescue  me  from  him !  "  A  fierce 
dialogue  immediately  ensued  between  the  captain  and  these 
two  men,  who,  being  both  armed  with  pistols,  and  the  chariot 
which  they  attended  being  now  arrived,  the  captain  saw  both 
force  and  stratagem  were  vain,  and  endeavoured  to  make  his 
escape,  in  which  however  he  could  not  succeed.  The  gentle- 
man who  rode  in  the  chariot  ordered  it  to  stop,  and  with  an 
air  of  authority  examined  into  the  merits  of  the  cause ;  of 
which  being  advertised  by  Fanny,  whose  credit  was  confirmed 
by  the  fellow  who  knew  her,  he  ordered  the  captain,  who 
was  all  bloody  from  his  encounter  at  the  inn,  to  be  conveyed 
as  a  prisoner  behind  the  chariot,  and  very  gallantly  took 
Fanny  into  it ;  for,  to  say  the  truth,  this  gentleman  (who 
was  no  other  than  the  celebrated  Mr  Peter  Pounce,  and  who 
preceded  the  Lady  Booby  only  a  few  miles,  by  setting  out 
earlier  in  the  morning)  was  a  very  gallant  person,  and  loved 
a  pretty  girl  better  than  anything  besides  his  own  money  or 
the  money  of  other  people. 

The  chariot  now  proceeded  towards  the  inn,  which,  as 
Fanny  was  informed,  lay  in  their  way,  and  where  it  arrived 
at  that  very  time  while  the  poet  and  player  were  disputing 
below-stairs,  and  Adams  and  Joseph  were  discoursing  back- 
to  back  above;  just  at  that  period  to  which  we  brought  them 

243 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

both  in  the  two  preceding  chapters  the  chariot  stopt  at  the 
door,  and  in  an  instant  Fanny,  leaping  from  it,  ran  up  to  her 
Joseph. — O  reader!  conceive  if  thou  canst  the  joy  which 
fired  the  breasts  of  these  lovers  on  this  meeting;  and  if  thy 
own  heart  doth  not  sympathetically  assist  thee  in  this  con- 
ception, I  pity  thee  sincerely  from  my  own ;  for  let  the  hard- 
hearted villain  know  this,  that  there  is  a  pleasure  in  a  tender 
sensation  beyond  any  which  he  is  capable  of  tasting. 

Feter,  being  informed  by  Fanny  of  the  presence  of  Adams, 
stopt  to  see  him,  and  receive  his  homage;  for,  as  Feter  was 
an  hypocrite,  a  sort  of  people  whom  Mr  Adams  never  saw 
through,  the  one  paid  that  respect  to  his  seeming  goodness 
which  the  other  believed  to  be  paid  to  his  riches;  hence  Mr 
Adams  was  so  much  his  favourite,  that  he  once  lent  him  four 
pounds  thirteen  shillings  and  sixpence  to  prevent  his  going 
to  gaol  on  no  greater  security  than  a  bond  and  judgment, 
which  probably  he  would  have  made  no  use  of,  though  the 
money  had  not  been  (as  it  was)  paid  exactly  at  the  time. 

It  is  not  perhaps  easy  to  describe  the  figure  of  Adams ;  he 
had  risen  in  such  a  hurry,  that  he  had  on  neither  breeches, 
garters,  nor  stockings;  nor  had  he  taken  from  his  head  a  red 
spotted  handkerchief,  which  by  night  bound  his  wig,  that 
was  turned  inside  out,  around  his  head.  He  had  on  his  torn 
cassock  and  his  great-coat ;  but,  as  the  remainder  of  his  cas- 
sock hung  down  below  his  great-coat,  so  did  a  small  stripe  of 
white,  or  rather  whitish,  linen  appear  below  that;  to  which 
we  may  add  the  several  colours  which  appeared  on  his  face, 
where  a  long  piss-burnt  beard  served  to  retain  the  liquor  of 
the  stone-pot,  and  that  of  a  blacker  hue  which  distilled  from 
the  mop. — This  figure,  which  Fanny  had  delivered  from  his 
captivity,  was  no  sooner  spied  by  Peter  than  it  disordered 
the  composed  gravity  of  his  muscles ;  however,  he  advised 
him  immediately  to  make  himself  clean,  nor  would  accept  his 
homage  in  that  pickle. 

The  poet  and  player  no  sooner  saw  the  captain  in  captivity 
than  they  began  to  consider  of  their  own  safety,  of  which 
flight  presented  itself  as  the  only  means ;  they  therefore  both 
of  them  mounted  the  poet's  horse,  and  made  the  most  expe- 
ditious retreat  in  their  power. 

244 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

The  host,  who  well  knew  Mr  Tounce  and  the  Lady  Booby's 
livery,  was  not  a  little  surprized  at  this  change  of  the  scene ; 
nor  was  his  confusion  much  helped  by  his  wife,  who  was  now 
just  risen,  and,  having  heard  from  him  the  account  of  what 
had  passed,  comforted  him  with  a  decent  number  of  fools  and 
blockheads ;  asked  him  why  he  did  not  consult  her,  and 
told  him  he  would  never  leave  following  the  nonsensical 
dictates  of  his  own  numskull  till  she  and  her  family  were 
ruined. 

Joseph,  being  informed  of  the  captain's  arrival,  and  see- 
ing his  Fanny  now  in  safety,  quitted  her  a  moment,  and, 
running  down-stairs,  went  directly  to  him,  and  stripping  off 
his  coat,  challenged  him  to  fight;  but  the  captain  refused, 
saying  he  did  not  understand  boxing.  He  then  grasped  a 
cudgel  in  one  hand,  and,  catching  the  captain  by  the  collar 
with  the  other,  gave  him  a  most  severe  drubbing,  and  ended 
with  telling  him  he  had  now  had  some  revenge  for  what  his 
dear  Fanny  had  suffered. 

When  Mr.  Pounce  had  a  little  regaled  himself  with  some 
provision  which  he  had  in  his  chariot,  and  Mr  Adams  had 
put  on  the  best  appearance  his  clothes  would  allow  him, 
Pounce  ordered  the  captain  into  his  presence,  for  he  said  he 
was  guilty  of  felony,  and  the  next  justice  of  peace  should 
commit  him;  but  the  servants  (whose  appetite  for  revenge 
is  soon  satisfied),  being  sufficiently  contented  with  the 
drubbing  which  Joseph  had  inflicted  on  him,  and  which  was 
indeed  of  no  very  moderate  kind,  had  suffered  him  to  go 
off,  which  he  did,  threatening  a  severe  revenge  against 
Joseph,  which  I  have  never  heard  he  thought  proper  to 
take. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  made  her  voluntary  appearance 
before  Mr  Pounce,  and  with  a  thousand  curtsies  told  him, 
she  hoped  his  honour  would  pardon  her  husband,  who  was 
a  very  nonsense  man,  for  the  sake  of  his  poor  family ;  that 
indeed  if  he  could  be  ruined  alone,  she  should  be  very  willing 
of  it;  for  because  as  why,  his  worship  very  well  knew  he 
deserved  it;  but  she  had  three  poor  small  children,  who  were 
not  capable  to  get  their  own  living ;  and  if  her  husband  was 
sent  to  gaol,  they  must  all  come  to  the  parish ;  for  she  was  a 

245 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

poor  weak  woman,  continually  a-breeding,  and  had  no  time 
to  work  for  them.  She  therefore  hoped  his  honour  would 
take  it  into  his  worship's  consideration,  and  forgive  her  hus- 
band this  time ;  for  she  was  sure  he  never  intended  any  harm 
to  man,  woman,  or  child;  and,  if  it  was  not  for  that  block- 
head of  his  own,  the  man  in  some  things  was  well  enough ; 
for  she  had  had  three  children  by  him  in  less  than  three 
years,  and  was  almost  ready  to  cry  out  the  fourth  time.  She 
would  have  proceeded  in  this  manner  much  longer,  had  not 
Peter  stopt  her  tongue,  by  telling  her  he  had  nothing  to  say 
to  her  husband  nor  her  neither.  So,  as  Adams  and  the  rest 
had  assured  her  of  forgiveness,  she  cried  and  curtsied  out  of 
the  room. 

Mr  Pounce  was  desirous  that  Fanny  should  continue  her 
journey  with  him  in  the  chariot ;  but  she  absolutely  refused, 
saying  she  would  ride  behind  Joseph  on  a  horse  which  one 
of  Lady  Booby's  servants  had  equipped  him  with.  But,  alas ! 
when  the  horse  appeared,  it  was  found  to  be  no  other  than 
that  identical  beast  which  Mr  Adams  had  left  behind  him  at 
the  inn,  and  which  these  honest  fellows,  who  knew  him,  had 
redeemed.  Indeed,  whatever  horse  they  had  provided  for 
Joseph,  they  would  have  prevailed  with  him  to  mount  none, 
no  not  even  to  ride  before  his  beloved  Fanny,  till  the  parson 
was  supplied  ;  much  less  would  he  deprive  his  friend  of  the 
beast  which  belonged  to  him,  and  which  he  knew  the  moment 
he  saw,  though  Adams  did  not ;  however,  when  he  was  re- 
minded of  the  affair,  and  told  that  they  had  brought  the 
horse  with  them  which  he  left  behind,  he  answered — Bless 
me !  and  so  I  did. 

Adams  was  very  desirous  that  Joseph  and  Fanny  should 
mount  his  horse,  and  declared  he  could  very  easily  walk 
home.  "  If  I  walked  alone,"  says  he,  "  I  would  wage  a  shil- 
ling that  the  pedestrian  outstripped  the  equestrian  travellers ; 
but,  as  I  intend  to  take  the  company  of  a  pipe,  peradventure 
I  may  be  an  hour  later."  One  of  the  servants  whispered  Jo- 
seph to  take  him  at  his  word,  and  suffer  the  old  put  to  walk 
if  he  would :  this  proposal  was  answered  with  an  angry  look 
and  a  peremptory  refusal  by  Joseph,  who,  catching  Fanny 
up  in  his  arms,  averred  he  would  rather  carry  her  home  in 

246 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

that  manner,  than  take  away  Mr  Adams's  horse  and  permit 
him  to  walk  on  foot. 

Perhaps,  reader,  thou  hast  seen  a  contest  between  two  gen- 
tlemen, or  two  ladies,  quickly  decided,  though  they  have  both 
asserted  they  would  not  eat  such  a  nice  morsel,  and  each 
insisted  on  the  other's  accepting  it ;  but  in  reality  both  were 
very  desirous  to  swallow  it  themselves.  Do  not  therefore 
conclude  hence  that  this  dispute  would  have  come  to  a  speedy 
decision  :  for  here  both  parties  were  heartily  in  earnest,  and 
it  is  very  probable  they  would  have  remained  in  the  inn-yard 
to  this  day,  had  not  the  good  Peter  Pounce  put  a  stop  to  it ; 
for,  finding  he  had  no  longer  hopes  of  satisfying  his  old  ap- 
petite with  Fanny,  and  being  desirous  of  having  some  one 
to  whom  he  might  communicate  his  grandeur,  he  told  the 
parson  he  would  convey  him  home  in  his  chariot.  This  fa- 
vour was  by  Adams,  with  many  bows  and  -acknowledgments, 
accepted,  though  he  afterwards  said,  he  ascended  the  chariot 
rather  that  he  might  not  offend  than  from  any  desire  of  rid- 
ing in  it,  for  that  in  his  heart  he  preferred  the  pedestrian 
even  to  the  vehicular  expedition.  All  matters  being  now  set- 
tled, the  chariot,  in  which  rode  Adams  and  Pounce,  moved 
forwards ;  and  Joseph  having  borrowed  a  pillion  from  the 
host,  Fanny  had  just  seated  herself  thereon,  and  had  laid 
hold  of  the  girdle  which  her  lover  wore  for  that  purpose, 
when  the  wise  beast,  who  concluded  that  one  at  a  time  was 
sufficient,  that  two  to  one  were  odds,  &c,  discovered  much 
uneasiness  at  his  double  load,  and  began  to  consider  his  hinder 
as  his  fore  legs,  moving  the  direct  contrary  way  to  that  which 
is  called  forwards.  Nor  could  Joseph,  with  all  his  horseman- 
ship, persuade  him  to  advance ;  but,  without  having  any  re- 
gard to  the  lovely  part  of  the  lovely  girl  which  was  on  his 
back,  he  used  such  agitations  that,  had  not  one  of  the  men 
come  immediately  to  her  assistance,  she  had,  in  plain  English, 
tumbled  backwards  on  the  ground.  This  inconvenience  was 
presently  remedied  by  an  exchange  of  horses ;  and  then  Fanny 
being  again  placed  on  her  pillion,  on  a  better-natured  and 
somewhat  a  better-fed  beast,  the  parson's  horse,  finding  he 
had  no  longer  odds  to  contend  with,  agreed  to  march;  and 
the  whole  procession  set  forwards  for  Booby-hall,  where  they 

247 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

arrived  in  a  few  hours  without  anything  remarkable  happen- 
ing on  the  road,  unless  it  was  a  curious  dialogue  between  the 
parson  and  the  steward :  which,  to  use  the  language  of  a  late 
Apologist,  a  pattern  to  all  biographers,  waits  for  the  reader 
in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  CURIOUS  DIALOGUE  WHICH  PASSED  BETWEEN  MR  ABRAHAM 
ADAMS  AND  MR  PETER  POUNCE,  BETTER  WORTH  READING 
THAN  ALL  THE  WORKS  OF  COLLEY  CIBBER  AND  MANY  OTHERS. 

THE  chariot  had  not  proceeded  far  before  Mr  Adams  ob- 
served it  was  a  very  fine  day.  "  Aye,  and  a  very  fine 
country  too,"  answered  Pounce. — "  I  should  think  so  more," 
returned  Adams,  "  if  I  had  not  lately  travelled  over  the  Downs, 
which  I  take  to  exceed  this  and  all  other  prospects  in  the 
universe." — "  A  fig  for  prospects  !  "  answered  Pounce ;  "  one 
acre  here  is  worth  ten  there ;  and  for  my  own  part,  I  have  no 
delight  in  the  prospect  of  any  land  but  my  own." — "  Sir,"  said 
Adams,  "  you  can  indulge  yourself  with  many  fine  prospects 
of  that  kind." — "  I  thank  God  I  have  a  little,"  replied  the 
other,  "  with  which  I  am  content,  and  envy  no  man :  I  have 
a  little,  Mr  Adams,  with  which  I  do  as  much  good  as  I  can." 
Adams  answered,  that  riches  without  charity  were  nothing 
worth ;  for  that  they  were  a  blessing  only  to  him  who  made 
them  a  blessing  to  others. — "  You  and  I,"  said  Peter,  "  have 
different  notions  of  charity.  I  own,  as  it  is  generally  used, 
I  do  not  like  the  word,  nor  do  I  think  it  becomes  one  of  us 
gentlemen ;  it  is  a  mean  parson-like  quality ;  though  I  would 
not  infer  many  parsons  have  it  neither." — "  Sir,"  said  Adams, 
"  my  definition  of  charity  is,  a  generous  disposition  to  relieve 
the  distressed." — "  There  is  something  in  that  definition,"  an- 
swered Peter,  "  which  I  like  well  enough ;  it  is,  as  you  say,  a 
disposition,  and  does  not  so  much  consist  in  the  act  as  in  the 
disposition  to  do  it.  But  alas !  Mr  Adams,  who  are  meant 
by  the  distressed?  Believe  me,  the  distresses  of  mankind 
are  mostly  imaginary,  and  it  would  be  rather  folly  than  good- 

248 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

ness  to  relieve  them." — "  Sure,  sir,"  replied  Adams,  "  hunger 
and  thirst,  cold  and  nakedness,  and  other  distresses  which 
attend  the  poor,  can  never  be  said  to  be  imaginary  evils." — 
"  How  can  any  man  complain  of  hunger,"  said  Peter,  "  in  a 
country  where  such  excellent  salads  are  to  be  gathered  in 
almost  every  field  ?  or  of  thirst,  where  every  river  and  stream 
produce  such  delicious  potations  ?  And  as  for  cold  and  naked- 
ness, they  are  evils  introduced  by  luxury  and  custom.  A  man 
naturally  wants  clothes  no  more  than  a  horse  or  any  other 
animal ;  and  there  are  whole  nations  who  go  without  them ; 
but  these  are  things  perhaps  which  you,  who  do  not  know 
the  world  " — "  You  will  pardon  me,  sir,"  returned  Adams ; 
"  I  have  read  of  the  Gymnosophists." — "  A  plague  of  your 
Jehosaphats !  "  cried  Peter;  "the  greatest  fault  in  our  consti- 
tution is  the  provision  made  for  the  poor,  except  that  perhaps 
made  for  some  others.  Sir,  I  have  not  an  estate  which  doth 
not  contribute  almost  as  much  again  to  the  poor  as  to  the 
land-tax ;  and  I  do  assure  you  I  expect  to  come  myself  to  the 
parish  in  the  end."  To  which  Adams  giving  a  dissenting 
smile,  Peter  thus  proceeded :  "  I  fancy,  Mr  Adams,  you  are 
one  of  those  who  imagine  I  am  a  lump  of  money ;  for  there 
are  many  who,  I  fancy,  believe  that  not  only  my  pockets,  but 
my  whole  clothes,  are  lined  with  bank-bills ;  but  I  assure 
you,  you  are  all  mistaken  ;  I  am  not  the  man  the  world  esteems 
me.  If  I  can  hold  my  head  above  water  it  is  all  I  can.  I 
have  injured  myself  by  purchasing.  I  have  been  too  liberal 
of  my  money.  Indeed,  I  fear  my  heir  will  find  my  affairs  in  a 
worse  situation  than  they  are  reputed  to  be.  Ah !  he  will  have 
reason  to  wish  I  had  loved  money  more  and  land  less.  Pray, 
my  good  neighbour,  where  should  I  have  that  quantity  of 
riches  the  world  is  so  liberal  to  bestow  on  me?  Where  could 
I  possibly,  without  I  had  stole  it,  acquire  such  a  treasure  ?  " 
"  Why  truly,"  says  Adams,  "  I  have  been  always  of  your  opin- 
ion ;  I  have  wondered  as  well  as  yourself  with  what  confi- 
dence they  could  report  such  things  of  you,  which  have  to 
me  appeared  as  mere  impossibilities ;  for  you  know,  sir,  and  I 
have  often  heard  you  say  it,  that  your  wealth  is  of  your  own 
acquisition ;  and  can  it  be  credible  that  in  your  short  time  you 
should  have  amassed  such  a  heap  of  treasure  as  these  people 
will  have  you  worth?     Indeed,  had  you  inherited  an  estate 

249 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

like  Sir  Thomas  Booby,  which  had  descended  in  your  family 
for  many  generations,  they  might  have  had  a  colour  for  their 
assertions."  '  Why,  what  do  they  say  I  am  worth  ?  "  cries 
Peter  with  a  malicious  sneer.  "  Sir,"  answered  Adams,  "  I 
have  heard  some  aver  you  are  not  worth  less  than  twenty 
thousand  pounds."  At  which  Peter  frowned.  "  Nay,  sir," 
said  Adams,  "  you  ask  me  only  the  opinion  of  others ;  for  my 
own  part,  I  have  always  denied  it,  nor  did  I  ever  believe  you 
could  possibly  be  worth  half  that  sum."  "  However,  Mr 
Adams,"  said  he,  squeezing  him  by  the  hand,  "  I  would  not 
sell  them  all  I  am  worth  for  double  that  sum ;  and  as  to  what 
you  believe,  or  they  believe,  I  care  not  a  fig,  no  not  a  fart. 
I  am  not  poor  because  you  think  me  so,  nor  because  you 
attempt  to  undervalue  me  in  the  country.  I  know  the  envy  of 
mankind  very  well ;  but  I  thank  Heaven  I  am  above  them. 
It  is  true,  my  wealth  is  of  my  own  acquisition.  I  have  not 
an  estate,  like  Sir  Thomas  Booby,  that  has  descended  in  my 
family  through  many  generations ;  but  I  know  heirs  of  such 
estates  who  are  forced  to  travel  about  the  country  like  some 
people  in  torn  cassocks,  and  might  be  glad  to  accept  of  a 
pitiful  curacy  for  what  I  know.  Yes,  sir,  as  shabby  fellows 
as  yourself,  whom  no  man  of  my  figure,  without  that  vice 
of  good-nature  about  him,  would  suffer  to  ride  in  a  chariot 
with  him."  "  Sir,"  said  Adams,  "  I  value  not  your  chariot  of 
a  rush ;  and  if  I  had  known  you  had  intended  to  affront  me, 
I  would  have  walked  to  the  world's  end  on  foot  ere  I  would 
have  accepted  a  place  in  it.  However,  sir,  I  will  soon  rid  you 
of  that  inconvenience ;  "  and,  so  saying,  he  opened  the  chariot 
door,  without  calling  to  the  coachman,  and  leapt  out  into  the 
highway,  forgetting  to  take  his  hat  along  with  him ;  which, 
however,  Mr  Pounce  threw  after  him  with  great  violence. 
Joseph  and  Fanny  stopped  to  bear  him  company  the  rest  of 
the  way,  which  was  not  above  a  mile. 


25° 


BOOK   IV. 
CHAPTER   I. 

THE  ARRIVAL  OF   LADY   BOOBY   AND  THE  REST  AT  BOOBY-HALL. 

THE  coach  and  six,  in  which  Lady  Booby  rode,  overtook 
the  other  travellers  as  they  entered  the  parish.  She  no 
sooner  saw  Joseph  than  her  cheeks  glowed  with  red,  and  imme- 
diately after  became  as  totally  pale.  She  had  in  her  surprize 
almost  stopt  her  coach ;  but  recollected  herself  timely  enough 
to  prevent  it.  She  entered  the  parish  amidst  the  ringing  of 
bells  and  the  acclamations  of  the  poor,  who  were  rejoiced  to 
see  their  patroness  returned  after  so  long  an  absence,  dur- 
ing which  time  all  her  rents  had  been  drafted  to  London,  with- 
out a  shilling  being  spent  among  them,  which  tended  not 
a  little  to  their  utter  impoverishing;  for,  if  the  court  would  be 
severely  missed  in  such  a  city  as  London,  how  much  more 
must  the  absence  of  a  person  of  great  fortune  be  felt  in  a 
little  country  village,  for  whose  inhabitants  such  a  family  finds 
a  constant  employment  and  supply;  and  with  the  offals  of 
whose  table  the  infirm,  aged,  and  infant  poor  are  abundantly 
fed,  with  a  generosity  which  hath  scarce  a  visible  effect  on 
their  benefactor's  pockets ! 

But,  if  their  interest  inspired  so  public  a  joy  into  every 
countenance,  how  much  more  forcibly  did  the  affection  which 
they  bore  parson  Adams  operate  upon  all  who  beheld  his  re- 
turn !  They  flocked  about  him  like  dutiful  children  round 
an  indulgent  parent,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  demonstra- 
tions of  duty  and  love.  The  parson  on  his  side  shook  every 
one  by  the  hand,  inquiring  heartily  after  the  healths  of  all 
that  were  absent,  of  their  children  and  relations ;  and  exprest 
a  satisfaction  in  his  face  which  nothing  but  benevolence  made 
happy  by  its  objects  could  infuse. 

Nor  did  Joseph  and  Fanny  want  a  hearty  welcome  from 

251 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

all  who  saw  them.  In  short,  no  three  persons  could  be  more 
kindly  received,  as,  indeed,  none  ever  more  deserved  to  be 
universally  beloved. 

Adams  carried  his  fellow-travellers  home  to  his  house,  where 
he  insisted  on  their  partaking  whatever  his  wife,  whom,  with 
his  children,  he  found  in  health  and  joy,  could  provide: — 
where  we  shall  leave  them  enjoying  perfect  happiness  over 
a  homely  meal,  to  view  scenes  of  greater  splendour,  but  in- 
finitely less  bliss. 

Our  more  intelligent  readers  will  doubtless  suspect,  by  this 
second  appearance  of  Lady  Booby  on  the  stage,  that  all  was 
not  ended  by  the  dismission  of  Joseph;  and,  to  be  honest 
with  them,  they  are  in  the  right :  the  arrow  had  pierced  deeper 
than  she  imagined ;  nor  was  the  wound  so  easily  to  be  cured. 
The  removal  of  the  object  soon  cooled  her  rage,  but  it  had  a 
different  effect  on  her  love ;  that  departed  with  his  person,  but 
this  remained  lurking  in  her  mind  with  his  image.  Restless, 
interrupted  slumbers,  and  confused  horrible  dreams  were  her 
portion  the  first  night.  In  the  morning,  fancy  painted  her 
a  more  delicious  scene;  but  to  delude,  not  delight  her;  for, 
before  she  could  reach  the  promised  happiness,  it  vanished, 
and  left  her  to  curse,  not  bless,  the  vision. 

She  started  from  her  sleep,  her  imagination  being  all  on 
fire  with  the  phantom,  when,  her  eyes  accidentally  glancing 
towards  the  spot  where  yesterday  the  real  Joseph  had  stood, 
that  little  circumstance  raised  his  idea  in  the  liveliest  colours 
in  her  memory.  Each  look,  each  word,  each  gesture  rushed 
back  on  her  mind  with  charms  which  all  his  coldness  could 
not  abate.  Nay,  she  imputed  that  to  his  youth,  his  folly, 
his  awe,  his  religion,  to  everything  but  what  would  instantly 
have  produced  contempt,  want  of  passion  for  the  sex,  or  that 
which  would  have  roused  her  hatred,  want  of  liking  to  her. 

Reflection  then  hurried  her  farther,  and  told  her  she  must 
see  this  beautiful  youth  no  more;  nay,  suggested  to  her  that 
she  herself  had  dismissed  him  for  no  other  fault  than  proba- 
bly that  of  too  violent  an  awe  and  respect  for  herself;  and 
which  she  ought  rather  to  have  esteemed  a  merit,  the  effects 
of  which  were  besides  so  easily  and  surely  to  have  been  re- 
moved ;  she  then  blamed,  she  cursed  the  hasty  rashness  of  her 
temper;  her  fury  was  vented  all  on  herself,  and  Joseph  ap- 

252 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

peared  innocent  in  her  eyes.  Her  passion  at  length  grew  so 
violent,  that  it  forced  her  on  seeking  relief,  and  now  she 
thought  of  recalling  him :  but  pride  forbad  that ;  pride,  which 
soon  drove  all  softer  passions  from  her  soul,  and  represented 
to  her  the  meanness  of  him  she  was  fond  of.  That  thought 
soon  began  to  obscure  his  beauties ;  contempt  succeeded  next, 
and  then  disdain,  which  presently  introduced  her  hatred  of  the 
creature  who  had  given  her  so  much  uneasiness.  These  ene- 
mies of  Joseph  had  no  sooner  taken  possession  of  her  mind 
than  they  insinuated  to  her  a  thousand  things  in  his  disfavour ; 
everything  but  dislike  of  her  person ;  a  thought  which,  as  it 
would  have  been  intolerable  to  bear,  she  checked  the  moment 
it  endeavoured  to  arise.  Revenge  came  now  to  her  assistance ; 
and  she  considered  her  dismission  of  him,  stript,  and  without 
a  character,  with  the  utmost  pleasure.  She  rioted  in  the  sev- 
eral kinds  of  misery  which  her  imagination  suggested  to  her 
might  be  his  fate ;  and,  with  a  smile  composed  of  anger,  mirth, 
and  scorn,  viewed  him  in  the  rags  in  which  her  fancy  had 
drest  him. 

Mrs  Slipslop,  being  summoned,  attended  her  mistress,  who 
had  now  in  her  own  opinion  totally  subdued  this  passion. 
Whilst  she  was  dressing  she  asked  if  that  fellow  had  been 
turned  away  according  to  her  orders.  Slipslop  answered, 
she  had  told  her  ladyship  so  (as  indeed  she  had). — "And 
how  did  he  behave  ?  "  replied  the  lady.  "  Truly,  madam," 
cries  Slipslop,  "  in  such  a  manner  that  infected  everybody 
who  saw  him.  The  poor  lad  had  but  little  wages  to  receive; 
for  he  constantly  allowed  his  father  and  mother  half  his  in- 
come; so  that,  when  your  ladyship's  livery  was  stript  off,  he 
had  not  wherewithal  to  buy  a  coat,  and  must  have  gone  naked 
if  one  of  the  footmen  had  not  incommodated  him  with  one; 
and  whilst  he  was  standing  in  his  shirt  (and,  to  say  truth, 
he  was  an  amorous  figure),  being  told  your  ladyship  would 
not  give  him  a  character,  he  sighed,  and  said  he  had  done 
nothing  willingly  to  offend;  that,  for  his  part,  he  should 
always  give  your  ladyship  a  good  character  wherever  he 
went;  and  he  prayed  God  to  bless  you;  for  you  was  the 
best  of  ladies,  though  his  enemies  had  set  you  against  him. 
I  wish  you  had  not  turned  him  away;  for  I  believe  you  have 
not  a  faithfuller  servant  in  the  house." — "  How  came  you 

253 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

then,"  replied  the  lady,  "  to  advise  me  to  turn  him  away  ?  " 
— "  I,  madam !  "  said  Slipslop ;  "  I  am  sure  you  will  do  me 
the  justice  to  say,  I  did  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  it;  but 
I  saw  your  ladyship  was  angry ;  and  it  is  not  the  business 
of  us  upper  servants  to  hint  or  fear  on  these  occasions." 
"  And  was  it  not  you,  audacious  wretch !  "  cried  the  lady, 
"  who  made  me  angry  ?  Was  it  not  your  tittle-tattle,  in  which 
I  believe  you  belied  the  poor  fellow,  which  incensed  me  against 
him  ?  He  may  thank  you  for  all  that  hath  happened ;  and  so 
may  I  for  the  loss  of  a  good  servant,  and  one  who  probably 
had  more  merit  than  all  of  you.  Poor  fellow !  I  am  charmed 
with  his  goodness  to  his  parents.  Why  did  not  you  tell  me  of 
that,  but  suffer  me  to  dismiss  so  good  a  creature  without  a 
character?  I  see  the  reason  of  your  whole  behaviour  now 
as  well  as  your  complaint ;  you  was  jealous  of  the  wenches." 
"  I  jealous !  "  said  Slipslop ;  "  I  assure  you,  I  look  upon  my- 
self as  his  betters ;  I  am  not  meat  for  a  footman,  I  hope." 
These  words  threw  the  lady  into  a  violent  passion,  and  she 
sent  Slipslop  from  her  presence,  who  departed,  tossing  her 
nose,  and  crying,  "  Marry,  come  up !  there  are  some  people 
more  jealous  than  I,  I  believe."  Her  lady  affected  not  to 
hear  the  words,  though  in  reality  she  did,  and  understood 
them  too.  Now  ensued  a  second  conflict,  so  like  the  former, 
that  it  might  savour  of  repetition  to  relate  it  minutely.  It 
may  suffice  to  say  that  Lady  Booby  found  good  reason  to 
doubt  whether  she  had  so  absolutely  conquered  her  passion 
as  she  had  flattered  herself;  and,  in  order  to  accomplish  it 
quite,  took  a  resolution,  more  common  than  wise,  to  retire 
immediately  into  the  country.  The  reader  hath  long  ago  seen 
the  arrival  of  Mrs  Slipslop,  whom  no  pertness  could  make 
her  mistress  resolve  to  part  with ;  lately,  that  of  Mr  Pounce, 
her  forerunners ;  and,  lastly,  that  of  the  lady  herself. 

The  morning  after  her  arrival  being  Sunday,  she  went  to 
church,  to  the  great  surprise  of  everybody,  who  wondered  to 
see  her  ladyship,  being  no  very  constant  church-woman,  there 
so  suddenly  upon  her  journey.  Joseph  was  likewise  there; 
and  I  have  heard  it  was  remarked  that  she  fixed  her  eyes 
on  him  much  more  than  on  the  parson ;  but  this  I  believed 
to  be  only  a  malicious  rumour.  When  the  prayers  were  ended 
Mr  Adams  stood  up,  and  with  a  loud  voice  pronounced,  "  I 

254 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

publish  the  banns  of  marriage  between  Joseph  Andrews 
and  Frances  Goodwill,  both  of  this  parish,"  &c.  Whether 
this  had  any  effect  on  Lady  Booby  or  no,  who  was  then  in 
her  pew,  which  the  congregation  could  not  see  into,  I  could 
never  discover :  but  certain  it  is,  that  in  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  she  stood  up,  and  directed  her  eyes  to  that  part  of  the 
church  where  the  women  sat,  and  persisted  in  looking  that 
way  during  the  remainder  of  the  sermon  in  so  scrutinizing 
a  manner,  and  with  so  angry  a  countenance,  that  most  of  the 
women  were  afraid  she  was  offended  at  them.  The  moment 
she  returned  home  she  sent  for  Slipslop  into  her  chamber, 
and  told  her  she  wondered  what  that  impudent  fellow  Joseph 
did  in  that  parish  ?  Upon  which  Slipslop  gave  her  an  account 
of  her  meeting  Adams  with  him  on  the  road,  and  likewise  the 
adventure  with  Fanny.  At  the  relation  of  which  the  lady 
often  changed  her  countenance ;  and  when  she  had  heard  all, 
she  ordered  Mr  Adams  into  her  presence,  to  whom  she  be- 
haved as  the  reader  will  see  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER   II. 

A  DIALOGUE  BETWEEN   MR  ABRAHAM   ADAMS  AND  LADY  BOOBY. 

MR  ADAMS  was  not  far  off,  for  he  was  drinking  her 
ladyship's  health  below  in  a  cup  of  her  ale.  He  no 
sooner  came  before  her  than  she  began  in  the  following  man- 
ner :  "  I  wonder,  sir,  after  the  many  great  obligations  you 
have  had  to  this  family  "  (with  all  which  the  reader  hath  in 
the  course  of  this  history  been  minutely  acquainted),  "that 
you  will  ungratefully  show  any  respect  to  a  fellow  who  hath 
been  turned  out  of  it  for  his  misdeeds.  Nor  doth  it,  I  can 
tell  you,  sir,  become  a  man  of  your  character,  to  run  about 
the  country  with  an  idle  fellow  and  wench.  Indeed,  as  for 
the  girl,  I  know  no  harm  of  her.  Slipslop  tells  me  she  was 
formerly  bred  up  in  my  house,  and  behaved  as  she  ought,  till 
she  hankered  after  this  fellow,  and  he  spoiled  her.  Nay,  she 
may  still,  perhaps,  do  very  well,  if  he  will  let  her  alone. 
You  are,  therefore,  doing  a  monstrous  thing  in  endeavouring 

255 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  procure  a  match  between  these  two  people,  which  will  be 
the  ruin  of  them  both." — "  Madam,"  said  Adams,  "  if  your 
ladyship  will  but  hear  me  speak,  I  protest  I  never  heard  any 
harm  of  Mr  Joseph  Andrews ;  if  I  had,  I  should  have  cor- 
rected him  for  it;  for  I  never  have,  nor  will,  encourage  the 
faults  of  those  under  my  cure.  As  for  the  young  woman,  I 
assure  your  ladyship  I  have  as  good  an  opinion  of  her  as 
your  ladyship  yourself  or  any  other  can  have.  She  is  the 
sweetest-tempered,  honestest,  worthiest  young  creature ;  in- 
deed, as  to  her  beauty,  I  do  not  commend  her  on  that  account, 
though  all  men  allow  she  is  the  handsomest  woman,  gentle  or 
simple,  that  ever  appeared  in  the  parish." — "  You  are  very  im- 
pertinent," says  she,  "  to  talk  such  fulsome  stuff  to  me.  It  is 
mighty  becoming  truly  in  a  clergyman  to  trouble  himself  about 
handsome  women,  and  you  are  a  delicate  judge  of  beauty, 
no  doubt.  A  man  who  hath  lived  all  his  life  in  such  a  parish 
as  this  is  a  rare  judge  of  beauty !  Ridiculous  !  beauty  indeed ! 
a  country  wench  a  beauty !  I  shall  be  sick  whenever  I  hear 
beauty  mentioned  again.  And  so  this  wench  is  to  stock  the 
parish  with  beauties,  I  hope.  But,  sir,  our  poor  are  numerous 
enough  already ;  I  will  have  no  more  vagabonds  settled  here." 
— "  Madam,"  says  Adams,  "  your  ladyship  is  offended  with 
me,  I  protest,  without  any  reason.  This  couple  were  de- 
sirous to  consummate  long  ago,  and  I  dissuaded  them  from 
it;  nay,  I  may  venture  to  say,  I  believe  I  was  the  sole  cause 
of  their  delaying  it." — "  Well,"  says  she,  "  and  you  did  very 
wisely  and  honestly  too,  notwithstanding  she  is  the  greatest 
beauty  in  the  parish." — "  And  now,  madam,"  continued  he, 
"  I  only  perform  my  office  to  Mr  Joseph." — "  Pray,  don't 
mister  such  fellows  to  me,"  cries  the  lady. — "  He,"  said  the 
parson,  "  with  the  consent  of  Fanny,  before  my  face,  put  in 
the  banns." — "  Yes,"  answered  the  lady,  "  I  suppose  the  slut 
is  forward  enough ;  Slipslop  tells  me  how  her  head  runs  on 
fellows;  that  is  one  of  her  beauties,  I  suppose.  But  if  they 
have  put  in  the  banns,  I  desire  you  will  publish  them  no 
more  without  my  orders." — "  Madam,"  cries  Adams,  "  if  any 
one  puts  in  a  sufficient  caution,  and  assigns  a  proper  reason 
against  them,  I  am  willing  to  surcease." — "  I  tell  you  a  rea- 
son," says  she :  "  he  is  a  vagabond,  and  he  shall  not  settle  here, 
and  bring  a  nest  of  beggars  into  the  parish ;  it  will  make  us 

256 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

but  little  amends  that  they  will  be  beauties." — "  Madam," 
answered  Adams,  "  with  the  utmost  submission  to  your  lady- 
ship, I  have  been  informed  by  Lawyer  Scout  that  any  person 
who  serves  a  year  gains  a  settlement  in  the  parish  where  he 
serves." — "  Lawyer  Scout,"  replied  the  lady,  "  is  an  impu- 
dent coxcomb;  I  will  have  no  Lawyer  Scout  interfere  with 
me.  I  repeat  to  you  again,  I  will  have  no  more  incumbrances 
brought  on  us :  so  I  desire  you  will  proceed  no  farther." — 
"  Madam,"  returned  Adams,  "  I  would  obey  your  ladyship  in 
everything  that  is  lawful ;  but  surely  the  parties  being  poor 
is  no  reason  against  their  marrying.  God  forbid  there  should 
be  any  such  law !  The  poor  have  little  share  enough  of  this 
world  already ;  it  would  be  barbarous  indeed  to  deny  them 
the  common  privileges  and  innocent  enjoyments  which  nature 
indulges  to  the  animal  creation." — "  Since  you  understand- 
yourself  no  better,"  cries  the  lady,  "  nor  the  respect  due  from 
such  as  you  to  a  woman  of  my  distinction,  than  to  affront  my 
ears  by  such  loose  discourse,  I  shall  mention  but  one  short 
word ;  it  is  my  orders  to  you  that  you  publish  these  banns  no 
more ;  and  if  you  dare,  I  will  recommend  it  to  your  master, 
the  doctor,  to  discard  you  from  his  service.  I  will,  sir,  not- 
withstanding your  poor  family ;  and  then  you  and  the  greatest 
beauty  in  the  parish  may  go  and  beg  together." — "  Madam," 
answered  Adams,  "  I  know  not  what  your  ladyship  means 
by  the  terms  master  and  service.  I  am  in  the  service  of  a 
Master  who  will  never  discard  me  for  doing  my  duty ;  and  if 
the  doctor  (for  indeed  I  have  never  been  able  to  pay  for  a 
licence)  thinks  proper  to  turn  me  from  my  cure,  God  will  pro- 
vide me,  I  hope,  another.  At  least,  my  family,  as  well  as 
myself,  have  hands ;  and  he  will  prosper,  I  doubt  not,  our 
endeavours  to  get  our  bread  honestly  with  them.  Whilst  my 
conscience  is  pure,  I  shall  never  fear  what  man  can  do  unto 
me." — "  I  condemn  my  humility,"  said  the  lady,  "  for  de- 
meaning myself  to  converse  with  you  so  long.  I  shall  take 
other  measures ;  for  I  see  you  are  a  confederate  with  them. 
But  the  sooner  you  leave  me  the  better ;  and  I  shall  give  orders 
that  my  doors  may  no  longer  be  open  to  you.  I  will  suffer  no 
parsons  who  run  about  the  country  with  beauties  to  be  enter- 
tained here." — "  Madam,"  said  Adams,  "  I  shall  enter  into  no 
persons'  doors  against  their  will ;  but  I  am  assured,  when  you 
17  257 


THE   ADVENTURES    OF 

have  inquired  farther  into  this  matter,  you  will  applaud,  not 
blame,  my  proceeding ;  and  so  I  humbly  take  my  leave :  " 
which  he  did  with  many  bows,  or  at  least  many  attempts  at 
a  bow. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHAT  PASSED  BETWEEN  THE  LADY  AND  LAWYER  SCOUT. 

IN  the  afternoon  the  lady  sent  for  Mr  Scout,  whom  she 
attacked  most  violently  for  intermeddling  with  her  ser- 
vants, which  he  denied,  and  indeed  with  truth,  for  he  had 
only  asserted  accidentally,  and  perhaps  rightly,  that  a  year's 
service  gained  a  settlement;  and  so  far  he  owned  he  might 
have  formerly  informed  the  parson  and  believed  it  was  law. 
'  I  am  resolved,"  said  the  lady,  "  to  have  no  discarded  ser- 
vants of  mine  settled  here ;  and  so,  if  this  be  your  law,  I  shall 
send  to  another  lawyer."  Scout  said,  "  if  she  sent  to  a  hun- 
dred lawyers,  not  one  or  all  of  them  could  alter  the  law.  The 
utmost  that  was  in  the  power  of  a  lawyer  was  to  prevent 
the  law's  taking  effect;  and  that  he  himself  could  do  for  her 
ladyship  as  well  as  any  other ;  and  I  believe,"  says  he,  "  ma- 
dam, your  ladyship,  not  being  conversant  in  these  matters, 
hath  mistaken  a  difference ;  for  I  asserted  only  that  a  man  who 
served  a  year  was  settled.  Now  there  is  a  material  differ- 
ence between  being  settled  in  law  and  settled  in  fact ;  and 
as  I  affirmed  generally  he  was  settled,  and  law  is  preferable 
to  fact,  my  settlement  must  be  understood  in  law  and  not 
in  fact.  And  suppose,  madam,  we  admit  he  was  settled  in 
law,  what  use  will  they  make  of  it?  how  doth  that  relate  to 
fact  ?  He  is  not  settled  in  fact ;  and  if  he  be  not  settled  in  fact, 
he  is  not  an  inhabitant ;  and  if  he  is  not  an  inhabitant,  he  is  not 
of  this  parish ;  and  then  undoubtedly  he  ought  not  to  be 
published  here ;  for  Mr  Adams  hath  told  me  your  ladyship's 
pleasure,  and  the  reason,  which  is  a  very  good  one,  to  pre- 
vent burdening  us  with  the  poor;  we  have  too  many  already, 
and  I  think  we  ought  to  have  an  act  to  hang  or  transport  half 
of  them.  If  we  can  prove  in  evidence  that  he  is  not  settled 
in  fact,  it  is  another  matter.    What  I  said  to  Mr  Adams  was 

258 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

on  a  supposition  that  he  was  settled  in  fact;  and  indeed,  if 
that  was  the  case,  I  should  doubt." — "  Don't  tell  me  your 
facts  and  your  ifs,"  said  the  lady;  "  I  don't  understand  your 
gibberish;  you  take  too  much  upon  you,  and  are  very  imper- 
tinent, in  pretending-  to  direct  in  this  parish ;  and  you  shall  be 
taught  better,  I  assure  you,  you  shall.     But  as  to  the  wench, 
I'  am  resolved  she  shall  not  settle  here ;  I  will  not  suffer  such 
beauties  as  these  to  produce  children  for  us  to  keep." — "  Beau- 
ties, indeed !  your  ladyship  is  pleased  to  be  merry,"  answered 
Scout. — "  Mr  Adams  described  her  so  to  me,"  said  the  lady. 
"  Pray,  what  sort  of  dowdy  is  it,  Mr  Scout  ?  " — "  The  ugliest 
creature  almost  I  ever  beheld ;  a  poor  dirty  drab ;  your  lady- 
ship never  saw  such  a  wretch." — "  Well,  but,  dear  Mr  Scout, 
let  her  be  what  she  will,  these  ugly  women  will  bring  children, 
you  know ;  so  that  we  must  prevent  the  marriage." — "  True, 
madam,"  replied  Scout,  "  for  the  subsequent  marriage  co-oper- 
ating with  the  law  will  carry  law  into  fact.    When  a  man  is 
married  he  is  settled  in  fact,  and  then  he  is  not  removable. 
I  will  see  Mr  Adams,  and  I  make  no  doubt  of  prevailing  with 
him.     His  only  objection  is,  doubtless,  that  he  shall  lose  his 
fee ;  but  that  being  once  made  easy,  as  it  shall  be,  I  am  con- 
fident no  farther  objection  will  remain.     No,  no,  it  is  impos- 
sible; but  your  ladyship  can't  discommend  his  unwillingness 
to  depart  from  his  fee.     Every  man  ought  to  have  a  proper 
value  for  his  fee.    As  to  the  matter  in  question,  if  your  lady- 
ship pleases  to  employ  me  in  it,  I  will  venture  to  promise  you 
success.     The  laws  of  this  land  are  not  so  vulgar  to  permit 
a  mean  fellow  to  contend  with  one  of  your  ladyship's  fortune. 
We  have  one  sure  card,  which  is,  to  carry  him  before  Justice 
Frolick,  who,  upon  hearing  your  ladyship's  name,  will  com- 
mit him  without  any   farther  questions.     As   for  the   dirty 
slut,  we  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  her;  for,  if  we  get 
rid  of  the  fellow,  the  ugly  jade  will — " — "  Take  what  measures 
you  please,  good  Mr  Scout,"  answered  the  lady :  "  but  I  wish 
you  could  rid  the  parish  of  both;  for  Slipslop  tells  me  such 
stories  of  this  wench,  that  I  abhor  the  thoughts  of  her ;  and, 
though  you  say  she  is  such  an  ugly  slut,  yet  you  know,  dear 
Mr  Scout,  these  forward  creatures,  who  run  after  men,  will 
always  find  some  as  forward  as  themselves  ;  so  that,  to  prevent 
the  increase  of  beggars,  we  must  get  rid  of  her." — "  Your 

259 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

ladyship  is  very  much  in  the  right,"  answered  Scout ;  "  but 
I  am  afraid  the  law  is  a  little  deficient  in  giving  us  any  such 
power  of  prevention ;  however,  the  justice  will  stretch  it  as  far 
as  he  is  able,  to  oblige  your  ladyship.  To  say  truth,  it  is  a 
great  blessing  to  the  country  that  he  is  in  the  commission, 
for  he  hath  taken  several  poor  off  our  hands  that  the  law 
would  never  lay  hold  on.  I  know  some  justices  who  make 
as  much  of  committing  a  man  to  Bridewell  as  his  lordship 
at  'size  would  of  hanging  him ;  but  it  would  do  a  man  good 
to  see  his  worship,  our  justice,  commit  a  fellow  to  Bridewell, 
he  takes  so  much  pleasure  in  it ;  and  when  once  we  ha'un 
there,  we  seldom  hear  any  more  o'un.  He's  either  starved  or 
eat  up  by  vermin  in  a  month's  time." — Here  the  arrival  of 
a  visitor  put  an  end  to  the  conversation,  and  Mr  Scout,  having 
undertaken  the  cause  and  promised  it  success,  departed. 

This  Scout  was  one  of  those  fellows  who,  without  any 
knowledge  of  the  law,  or  being  bred  to  it,  take  upon  them, 
in  defiance  of  an  act  of  parliament,  to  act  as  lawyers  in  the 
country,  and  are  called  so.  They  are  the  pests  of  society, 
and  a  scandal  to  a  profession,  to  which  indeed  they  do  not 
belong,  and  which  owes  to  such  kind  of  rascallions  the  ill- 
will  which  weak  persons  bear  towards  it.  With  this  fellow, 
to  whom  a  little  before  she  would  not  have  condescended  to 
have  spoken,  did  a  certain  passion  for  Joseph,  and  the  jeal- 
ousy and  the  disdain  of  poor  innocent  Fanny,  betray  the  Lady 
Booby  into  a  familiar  discourse,  in  which  she  inadvertently 
confirmed  many  hints  with  which  Slipslop,  whose  gallant 
he  was,  had  pre-acquainted  him ;  and  whence  he  had  taken 
an  opportunity  to  assert  those  severe  falsehoods  of  little  Fanny 
which  possibly  the  reader  might  not  have  been  well  able  to 
account  for  if  we  had  not  thought  proper  to  give  him  this  in- 
formation. 


260 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 


CHAPTER   IV. 

A  SHORT  CHAPTER,  BUT  VERY  FULL  OF  MATTER  ;  PARTICULARLY 
THE  ARRIVAL  OF  MR  BOOBY  AND  HIS  LADY. 

ALL  that  night,  and  the  next  day,  the  Lady  Booby  passed 
iV.  with  the  utmost  anxiety ;  her  mind  was  distracted  and 
her  soul  tossed  up  and  down  by  many  turbulent  and  opposite 
passions.  She  loved,  hated,  pitied,  scorned,  admired,  despised 
the  same  person  by  fits,  which  changed  in  a  very  short  in- 
terval. On  Tuesday  morning,  which  happened  to  be  a  holi- 
day, she  went  to  church,  where,  to  her  surprize,  Mr  Adams 
published  the  banns  again  with  as  audible  a  voice  as  before. 
It  was  lucky  for  her  that,  as  there  was  no  sermon,  she  had 
an  immediate  opportunity  of  returning  home  to  vent  her  rage, 
which  she  could  not  have  concealed  from  the  congregation 
five  minutes ;  indeed,  it  was  not  then  very  numerous,  the  as- 
sembly consisting  of  no  more  than  Adams,  his  clerk,  his  wife, 
the  lady,  and  one  of  her  servants.  At  her  return  she  met 
Slipslop,  who  accosted  her  in  these  words : — "  O  meam,  what 
doth  your  ladyship  think?  To  be  sure,  lawyer  Scout  hath 
carried  Joseph  and  Fanny  both  before  the  justice.  All  the 
parish  are  in  tears,  and  say  they  will  certainly  be  hanged ;  for 
nobody  knows  what  it  is  for."  "  I  suppose  they  deserve  it," 
says  the  lady.  "  What  dost  thou  mention  such  wretches  to 
me?" — "O  dear  madam,"  answered  Slipslop,  "is  it  not  a 
pity  such  a  graceless  young  man  should  die  a  virulent  death? 
I  hope  the  judge  will  take  commensuration  on  his  youth. 
As  for  Fanny,  I  don't  think  it  signifies  much  what  becomes 
of  her ;  and  if  poor  Joseph  hath  done  anything,  I  could  ven- 
ture to  swear  she  traduced  him  to  it :  few  men  ever  come  to 
a  fragrant  punishment,  but  by  those  nasty  creatures,  who  are 
a  scandal  to  our  sect."  The  lady  was  no  more  pleased  at  this 
news,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  than  Slipslop  herself;  for, 
though  she  wished  Fanny  far  enough,  she  did  not  desire  the 
removal  of  Joseph,  especially  with  her.  She  was  puzzled 
how  to  act  or  what  to  say  on  this  occasion,  when  a  coach  and 
six  drove  into  the  court,  and  a  servant  acquainted  her  with 

261 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  arrival  of  her  nephew  Booby  and  his  lady.  She  ordered 
them  to  be  conducted  into  a  drawing-room,  whither  she  pres- 
ently repaired,  having  composed  her  countenance  as  well  as 
she  could,  and  being  a  little  satisfied  that  the  wedding  would 
by  these  means  be  at  least  interrupted,  and  that  she  should 
have  an  opportunity  to  execute  any  resolution  she  might  take, 
for  which  she  saw  herself  provided  with  an  excellent  instru- 
ment in  Scout. 

The  Lady  Booby  apprehended  her  servant  had  made  a  mis- 
take when  he  mentioned  Mr  Booby's  lady ;  for  she  had  never 
heard  of  his  marriage:  but  how  great  was  her  surprize  when, 
at  her  entering  the  room,  her  nephew  presented  his  wife  to 
her !  saying,  "  Madam,  this  is  that  charming  Pamela,  of  whom 
I  am  convinced  you  have  heard  so  much."  The  lady  received 
her  with  more  civility  than  he  expected ;  indeed  with  the  ut- 
most ;  for  she  was  perfectly  polite,  nor  had  any  vice  incon- 
sistent with  good-breeding.  They  passed  some  little  time 
in  ordinary  discourse,  when  a  servant  came  and  whispered 
Mr  Booby,  who  presently  told  the  ladies  he  must  desert  them 
a  little  on  some  business  of  consequence ;  and,  as  their  dis- 
course during  his  absence  would  afford  little  improvement 
or  entertainment  to  the  reader,  we  will  leave  them  for  a  while 
to  attend  Mr.  Booby. 


CHAPTER   V. 


CONTAINING  JUSTICE  BUSINESS  J  CURIOUS  PRECEDENTS  OF 
DEPOSITIONS,  AND  OTHER  MATTERS  NECESSARY  TO  BE  PE- 
RUSED BY  ALL  JUSTICES  OF  THE  PEACE  AND  THEIR  CLERKS. 

THE  young  squire  and  his  lady  were  no  sooner  alighted 
from  their  coach  than  the  servants  began  to  inquire 
after  Mr  Joseph,  from  whom  they  said  their  lady  had  not 
heard  a  word,  to  her  great  surprize,  since  he  had  left  Lady 
Booby's.  Upon  this  they  were  instantly  informed  of  what 
had  lately  happened,  with  which  they  hastily  acquainted  their 
master,  who  took  an  immediate  resolution  to  go  himself,  and 

262 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

endeavour  to  restore  his  Pamela  her  brother,  before  she  even 
knew  she  had  lost  him. 

The  justice  before  whom  the  criminals  were  carried,  and 
who  lived  within  a  short  mile  of  the  lady's  house,  was  luckily 
Mr  Booby's  acquaintance,  by  his  having  an  estate  in  his 
neighbourhood.  Ordering  therefore  his  horses  to  his  coach, 
he  set  out  for  the  judgment-seat,  and  arrived  when  the  jus- 
tice had  almost  finished  his  business.  He  was  conducted 
into  a  hall,  where  he  was  acquainted  that  his  worship  would 
wait  on  him  in  a  moment ;  for  he  had  only  a  man  and  a  wo- 
man to  commit  to  bridewell  first.  As  he  was  now  convinced 
he  had  not  a  minute  to  lose,  he  insisted  on  the  servant's  in- 
troducing him  directly  into  the  room  where  the  justice  was 
then  executing  his  office,  as  he  called  it.  Being  brought 
thither,  and  the  first  compliments  being  passed  between  the 
squire  and  his  worship,  the  former  asked  the  latter  what 
crime  those  two  young  people  had  been  guilty  of?  "  No 
great  crime,"  answered  the  justice;  "I  have  only  ordered 
them  to  bridewell  for  a  month."  '  But  what  is  their  crime?  " 
repeated  the  squire.  "  Larceny,  an't  please  your  honour," 
said  Scout.  "  Aye,"  says  the  justice,  "  a  kind  of  felonious 
larcenous  thing.  I  believe  I  must  order  them  a  little  correc- 
tion too,  a  little  stripping  and  whipping."  (Poor  Fanny, 
who  had  hitherto  supported  all  with  the  thoughts  of  Joseph's 
company,  trembled  at  that  sound ;  but,  indeed,  without  reason, 
for  none  but  the  devil  himself  would  have  executed  such  a 
sentence  on  her.)  "  Still,"  said  the  squire,  "  I  am  ignorant 
of  the  crime — the  fact  I  mean."  '  Why,  there  it  is  in  peaper," 
answered  the  justice,  showing  him  a  deposition  which,  in  the 
absence  of  his  clerk,  he  had  writ  himself,  of  which  we  have 
with  great  difficulty  procured  an  authentic  copy;  and  here 
it  follows  verbatim  et  literatim: — 

The  depnsition  of  James  Scout,  layer,  and  Thomas  Trotter, 
yeoman,  taken  before  mee,  one  of  his  magestys  justasses 
of  the  piece  for  Zumersetshire. 

"  These  deponants  saith,  and  first  Thomas  Trotter  for 
himself  saith  that  on  the  of  this  instant  October,  being  Sab- 
bath-day, betwin  the  ours  of  2  and  4  in  the  afternoon,  he 

263 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

zeed  Joseph  Andrews  and  Francis  Goodwill  walk  akross  a 
certane  felde  belunging  to  layer  Scout,  and  out  of  the  path 
which  ledes  thru  the  said  felde,  and  there  he  zede  Joseph  An- 
drews with  a  nife  cut  one  hassel  twig,  of  the  value,  as  he 
believes,  of  three  half-pence,  or  thereabouts ;  and  he  saith  that 
the  said  Francis  Goodwill  was  likewise  walking  on  the  grass 
out  of  the  said  path  in  the  said  felde,  and  did  receive  and 
karry  in  her  hand  the  said  twig,  and  so  was  cumfarting, 
eading,  and  abatting  to  the  said  Joseph  therein.  And  the  said 
James  Scout  for  himself  says  that  he  verily  believes  the  said 
twig  to  be  his  own  proper  twig,"  &c. 

"  Jesu !  "  said  the  squire,  "  would  you  commit  two  persons 
to  bridewell  for  a  twig?  "  "  Yes,"  said  the  lawyer,  ".and  with 
great  lenity  too ;  for  if  he  had  called  it  a  young  tree,  they 
would  have  been  both  hanged."  "  Harkee,"  says  the  justice, 
taking  aside  the  squire ;  "  I  should  not  have  been  so  severe 
on  this  occasion,  but  Lady  Booby  desires  to  get  them  out  of 
the  parish ;  so  lawyer  Scout  will  give  the  constable  orders  to 
let  them  run  away,  if  they  please :  but  it  seems  they  intend 
to  marry  together,  and  the  lady  hath  no  other  means,  as  they 
are  legally  settled  there,  to  prevent  their  bringing  an  incum- 
brance on  her  own  parish."  "  Well,"  said  the  squire,  "  I  will 
take  care  my  aunt  shall  be  satisfied  in  this  point ;  and  likewise  I 
promise  you,  Joseph  here  shall  never  be  any  incumbrance  on 
her.  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you,  therefore,  if,  instead  of  bride- 
well, you  will  commit  them  to  my  custody."  "  O !  to  be  sure, 
sir,  if  you  desire  it,"  answered  the  justice;  and  without  more 
ado  Joseph  and  Fanny  were  delivered  over  to  Squire  Booby, 
whom  Joseph  very  well  knew,  but  little  guessed  how  nearly 
he  was  related  to  him.  The  justice  burnt  his  mittimus,  the 
constable  was  sent  about  his  business,  the  lawyer  made  no 
complaint  for  want  of  justice;  and  the  prisoners,  with  exult- 
ing hearts,  gave  a  thousand  thanks  to  his  honour  Mr  Booby ; 
who  did  not  intend  their  obligations  to  him  should  cease 
there ;  for,  ordering  his  man  to  produce  a  cloak-bag,  which 
he  had  caused  to  be  brought  from  Lady  Booby's  on  purpose, 
he  desired  the  justice  that  he  might  have  Joseph  with  him 
into  a  room ;  where,  ordering  his  servant  to  take  out  a  suit 

264 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

of  his  own  clothes,  with  linen  and  other  necessaries,  he  left 
Joseph  to  dress  himself,  who,  not  yet  knowing  the  cause  of 
all  this  civility,  excused  his  accepting  such  a  favour  as  long 
as  decently  he  could.  Whilst  Joseph  was  dressing,  the  squire 
repaired  to  the  justice,  whom  he  found  talking  with  Fanny ; 
for,  during  the  examination,  she  had  looped  her  hat  over  her 
eyes,  which  were  also  bathed  in  tears,  and  had  by  that  means 
concealed  from  his  worship  what  might  perhaps  have  ren- 
dered the  arrival  of  Mr  Booby  unnecessary,  at  least  for  her- 
self. The  justice  no  sooner  saw  her  countenance  cleared  up, 
and  her  bright  eyes  shining  through  her  tears,  than  he  secretly 
cursed  himself  for  having  once  thought  of  bridewell  for  her. 
He  would  willingly  have  sent  his  own  wife  thither,  to  have 
had  Fanny  in  her  place.  And,  conceiving  almost  at  the  same 
instant  desires  and  schemes  to  accomplish  them,  he  employed 
the  minutes  whilst  the  squire  was  absent  with  Joseph  in  as- 
suring her  how  sorry  he  was  for  having  treated  her  so 
roughly  before  he  knew  her  merit;  and  told  her,  that  since 
Lady  Booby  was  unwilling  that  she  should  settle  in  her  par- 
ish, she  was  heartily  welcome  to  his,  where  he  promised  her 
his  protection,  adding  that  he  would  take  Joseph  and  her  into 
his  own  family,  if  she  liked  it ;  which  assurance  he  confirmed 
with  a  squeeze  by  the  hand.  She  thanked  him  very  kindly, 
and  said,  she  would  acquaint  Joseph  with  the  offer,  which  he 
would  certainly  be  glad  to  accept ;  for  that  Lady  Booby  was 
angry  with  them  both ;  though  she  did  not  know  either  had 
done  anything  to  offend  her,  but  imputed  it  to  Madam  Slip- 
slop, who  had  always  been  her  enemy. 

The  squire  now  returned,  and  prevented  any  farther  con- 
tinuance of  this  conversation;  and  the  justice,  out  of  a  pre- 
tended respect  to  his  guest,  but  in  reality  from  an  apprehen- 
sion of  a  rival  (for  he  knew  nothing  of  his  marriage),  ordered 
Fanny  into  the  kitchen,  whither  she  gladly  retired ;  nor  did  the 
squire,  who  declined  the  trouble  of  explaining  the  whole  mat- 
ter, oppose  it. 

It  would  be  unnecessary,  if  I  was  able,  which  indeed  I  am 
not,  to  relate  the  conversation  between  these  two  gentlemen, 
which  rolled,  as  I  have  been  informed,  entirely  on  the  sub- 
ject of  horse-racing.     Joseph  was  soon  drest  in  the  plainest 

265 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

dress  he  could  find,  which  was  a  blue  coat  and  breeches,  with 
a  gold  edging,  and  a  red  waistcoat  with  the  same :  and  as  this 
suit,  which  was  rather  too  large  for  the  squire,  exactly  fitted 
him,  so  he  became  it  so  well,  and  looked  so  genteel,  that  no 
person  would  have  doubted  its  being  as  well  adapted  to  his 
quality  as  his  shape ;  nor  have  suspected,  as  one  might,  when 
my  Lord ,  or  Sir ,  or  Mr ,  appear  in  lace  or  em- 
broidery, that  the  tailor's  man  wore  those  clothes  home  on  his 
back  which  he  should  have  carried  under  his  arm. 

The  squire  now  took  leave  of  the  justice;  and,  calling  for 
Fanny,  made  her  and  Joseph,  against  their  wills,  get  into 
the  coach  with  him,  which  he  then  ordered  to  drive  to  Lady 
Booby's.  It  had  moved  a  few  yards  only,  when  the  squire 
asked  Joseph  if  he  knew  who  that  man  was  crossing  the  field ; 
for,  added  he,  "  I  never  saw  one  take  such  strides  before." 
Joseph  answered  eagerly,  "  O,  sir,  it  is  parson  Adams !  " 
"  O  la,  indeed,  and  so  it  is,"  said  Fanny ;  "  poor  man,  he  is 
coming  to  do  what  he  could  for  us.  Well,  he  is  the  worthiest, 
best-natured  creature." — "  Aye,"  said  Joseph ;  "  God  bless 
him !  for  there  is  not  such  another  in  the  universe."  "  The 
best  creature  living  sure,"  cries  Fanny.  'Is  he?"  says  the 
squire ;  "  then  I  am  resolved  to  have  the  best  creature  living 
in  my  coach ;  "  and  so  saying,  he  ordered  it  to  stop,  whilst 
Joseph,  at  his  request,  hallowed  to  the  parson,  who,  well 
knowing  his  voice,  made  all  the  haste  imaginable,  and  soon 
came  up  with  them.  He  was  desired  by  the  master,  who 
could  scarce  refrain  from  laughter  at  his  figure,  to  mount  into 
the  coach,  which  he  with  many  thanks  refused,  saying  he 
could  walk  by  its  side,  and  he'd  warrant  he  kept  up  with  it ; 
but  he  was  at  length  over-prevailed  on.  The  squire  now  ac- 
quainted Joseph  with  his  marriage ;  but  he  might  have  spared 
himself  that  labour ;  for  his  servant,  whilst  Joseph  was  dress- 
ing, had  performed  that  office  before.  He  continued  to  ex- 
press the  vast  happiness  he  enjoyed  in  his  sister,  and  the 
value  he  had  for  all  who  belonged  to  her.  Joseph  made  many 
bows,  and  exprest  as  many  acknowledgments :  and  parson 
Adams,  who  now  first  perceived  Joseph's  new  apparel,  burst 
into  tears  with  joy,  and  fell  to  rubbing  his  hands  and  snap- 
ping his  fingers  as  if  he  had  been  mad. 

266 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

They  were  now  arrived  at  the  Lady  Booby's,  and  the 
squire,  desiring  them  to  wait  a  moment  in  the  court,  walked 
in  to  his  aunt,  and,  calling  her  out  from  his  wife,  acquainted 
her  with  Joseph's  arrival ;  saying,  "  Madam,  as  I  have  mar- 
ried a  virtuous  and  worthy  woman,  I  am  resolved  to  own 
her  relations,  and  show  them  all  a  proper  respect ;  I  shall 
think  myself  therefore  infinitely  obliged  to  all  mine  who  will 
do  the  same.  It  is  true,  her  brother  hath  been  your  servant, 
but  he  is  now  become  my  brother ;  and  I  have  one  happiness, 
that  neither  his  character,  his  behaviour,  or  appearance,  give 
me  any  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  calling  him  so.  In  short, 
he  is  now  below,  dressed  like  a  gentleman,  in  which  light  I 
intend  he  shall  hereafter  be  seen ;  and  you  will  oblige  me  be- 
yond expression  if  you  will  admit  him  to  be  of  our  party;  for 
I  know  it  will  give  great  pleasure  to  my  wife,  though  she 
will  not  mention  it." 

This  was  a  stroke  of  fortune  beyond  the  Lady  Booby's 
hopes  or  expectation ;  she  answered  him  eagerly,  "  Nephew, 
you  know  how  easily  I  am  prevailed  on  to  do  anything  which 
Joseph  Andrews  desires — Phoo,  I  mean  which  you  desire 
me ;  and,  as  he  is  now  your  relation,  I  cannot  refuse  to  enter- 
tain him  as  such."  The  squire  told  her  he  knew  his  obliga- 
tion to  her  for  her  compliance ;  and  going  three  steps,  re- 
turned and  told  her — he  had  one  more  favour,  which  he 
believed  she  would  easily  grant,  as  she  had  accorded  him  the 
former.  "  There  is  a  young  woman — " — "  Nephew,"  says  she, 
"  don't  let  my  good-nature  make  you  desire,  as  is  too  com- 
monly the  case,  to  impose  on  me.  Nor  think,  because  I  have 
with  so  much  condescension  agreed  to  suffer  your  brother- 
in-law  to  come  to  my  table,  that  I  will  submit  to  the  company 
of  all  my  own  servants,  and  all  the  dirty  trollops  in  the  coun- 
try." "  Madam,"  answered  the  squire,  "  I  believe  you  never 
saw  this  young  creature.  I  never  beheld  such  sweetness  and 
innocence  joined  with  such  beauty,  and  withal  so  genteel." 
"  Upon  my  soul  I  won't  admit  her,"  replied  the  lady  in  a  pas- 
sion ;  "  the  whole  world  shan't  prevail  on  me ;  I  resent  even 

the   desire   as   an   affront,   and  " The   squire,   who   knew 

her  inflexibility,  interrupted  her,  by  asking  pardon,  and 
promising  not  to  mention  it  more.     He  then  returned  to  Jo- 

267 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

seph,  and  she  to  Pamela.  He  took  Joseph  aside,  and  told  him 
he  would  carry  him  to  his  sister,  but  could  not  prevail  as  yet 
for  Fanny.  Joseph  begged  that  he  might  see  his  sister  alone, 
and  then  be  with  his  Fanny ;  but  the  squire,  knowing  the  plea- 
sure his  wife  would  have  in  her  brother's  company,  would  not 
admit  it,  telling  Joseph  there  would  be  nothing  in  so  short 
an  absence  from  Fanny,  whilst  he  was  assured  of  her  safety ; 
adding  he  hoped  he  could  not  so  easily  quit  a  sister  whom  he 
had  not  seen  so  long,  and  who  so  tenderly  loved  him.  Joseph 
immediately  complied;  for  indeed  no  brother  could  love  a 
sister  more ;  and,  recommending  Fanny,  who  rejoiced  that 
she  was  not  to  go  before  Lady  Booby,  to  the  care  of  Mr 
Adams,  he  attended  the  squire  up-stairs,  whilst  Fanny  re- 
paired with  the  parson  to  his  house,  where  she  thought  herself 
secure  of  a  kind  reception. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  WHICH  YOU  ARE  DESIRED  TO  READ  NO  MORE  THAN 

YOU  LIKE. 

THE  meeting  between  Joseph  and  Pamela  was  not  with- 
out tears  of  joy  on  both  sides ;  and  their  embraces  were 
full  of  tenderness  and  affection.  They  were,  however,  re- 
garded with  much  more  pleasure  by  the  nephew  than  by  the 
aunt,  to  whose  flame  they  were  fuel  only ;  and  this  was  in- 
creased by  the  addition  of  dress,  which  was  indeed  not  wanted 
to  set  off  the  lively  colours  in  which  Nature  had  drawn  health, 
strength,  comeliness,  and  youth.  In  the  afternoon  Joseph,  at 
their  request,  entertained  them  with  the  account  of  his  adven- 
tures :  nor  could  Lady  Booby  conceal  her  dissatisfaction  at 
those  parts  in  which  Fanny  was  concerned,  especially  when 
Mr  Booby  launched  forth  into  such  rapturous  praises  of  her 
beauty.  She  said,  applying  to  her  niece,  that  she  wondered 
her  nephew,  who  had  pretended  to  marry  for  love,  should 
think  such  a  subject  proper  to  amuse  his  wife  with ;  adding, 
that,  for  her  part,  she  should  be  jealous  of  a  husband  who 

268 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

spoke  so  warmly  in  praise  of  another  woman.  Pamela  an- 
swered, indeed,  she  thought  she  had  cause ;  but  it  was  an  in- 
stance of  Mr  Booby's  aptness  to  see  more  beauty  in  women 
than  they  were  mistresses  of.  At  which  words  both  the 
women  fixed  their  eyes  on  two  looking-glasses ;  and  Lady 
Booby  replied,  that  men  were,  in  the  general,  very  ill  judges 
of  beauty ;  and  then,  whilst  both  contemplated  only  their 
own  faces,  they  paid  a  cross  compliment  to  each  other's 
charms.  When  the  hour  of  rest  approached,  which  the  lady 
of  the  house  deferred  as  long  as  decently  she  could,  she  in- 
formed Joseph  (whom  for  the  future  we  shall  call  Mr  Joseph, 
he  having  as  good  a  title  to  that  appellation  as  many  others — I 
mean  that  incontested  one  of  good  clothes)  that  she  had 
ordered  a  bed  to  be  provided  for  him.  He  declined  this  fa- 
vour to  his  utmost;  for  his  heart  had  long  been  with  his 
Fanny ;  but  she  insisted  on  his  accepting  it,  alleging  that  the 
parish  had  no  proper  accommodation  for  such  a  person  as  he 
was  now  to  esteem  himself.  The  squire  and  his  lady  both 
joining  with  her,  Mr  Joseph  was  at  last  forced  to  give  over 
his  design  of  visiting  Fanny  that  evening;  who,  on  her  side, 
as  impatiently  expected  him  till  midnight,  when,  in  compla- 
cence to  Mr  Adams's  family,  who  had  sat  up  two  hours  out 
of  respect  to  her,  she  retired  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep;  the 
thoughts  of  her  love  kept  her  waking,  and  his  not  returning 
according  to  his  promise  filled  her  with  uneasiness ;  of  which, 
however,  she  could  not  assign  any  other  cause  than  merely 
that  of  being  absent  from  him. 

Mr  Joseph  rose  early  in  the  morning,  and  visited  her  in 
whom  his  soul  delighted.  She  no  sooner  heard  his  voice  in 
the  parson's  parlour  than  she  leapt  from  her  bed,  and,  dress- 
ing herself  in  a  few  minutes,  went  down  to  him.  They 
passed  two  hours  with  inexpressible  happiness  together;  and 
then,  having  appointed  Monday,  by  Mr  Adams's  permission, 
for  their  marriage,  Mr  Joseph  returned,  according  to  his 
promise,  to  breakfast  at  the  Lady  Booby's,  with  whose  be- 
haviour, since  the  evening,  we  shall  now  acquaint  the  reader. 

She  was  no  sooner  retired  to  her  chamber  than  she  asked 
Slipslop  what  she  thought  of  this  wonderful  creature  her 
nephew  had   married  ? — "  Madam !  "   said   Slipslop,   not   yet 

269   f 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

sufficiently  understanding  what  answer  she  was  to  make.  "  I 
ask  you,"  answered  the  lady,  "  what  you  think  of  the  dowdy, 
my  niece,  I  think  I  am  to  call  her  ?  "  Slipslop,  wanting  no 
further  hint,  began  to  pull  her  to  pieces,  and  so  miserably 
defaced  her,  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  any  one 
to  have  known  the  person.  The  lady  gave  her  all  the  assis- 
tance she  could,  and  ended  with  saying,  "  I  think,  Slipslop, 
you  have  done  her  justice ;  but  yet,  bad  as  she  is,  she  is  an 
angel  compared  to  this  Fanny."  Slipslop  then  fell  on  Fanny, 
whom  she  hacked  and  hewed  in  the  like  barbarous  manner, 
concluding  with  an  observation  that  there  was  always  some- 
thing in  those  low-life  creatures  which  must  eternally  dis- 
tinguish them  from  their  betters.  "  Really,"  said  the  lady, 
"  I  think  there  is  one  exception  to  your  rule ;  I  am  certain 
you  may  guess  who  I  mean." — "  Not  I,  upon  my  word, 
madam,"  said  Slipslop.  "  I  mean  a  young  fellow ;  sure  you 
are  the  dullest  wretch,"  said  the  lady.  "O  la!  I  am  indeed. 
Yes,  truly,  madam,  he  is  an  accession,"  answered  Slipslop. 
"  Aye,  is  he  not,  Slipslop?  "  returned  the  lady.  "  Is  he  not  so 
genteel  that  a  prince  might,  without  a  blush,  acknowledge  him 
for  his  son?  His  behaviour  is  such  that  would  not  shame 
the  best  education.  He  borrows  from  his  station  a  conde- 
scension in  everything  to  his  superiors,  yet  unattended  by 
that  mean  servility  which  is  called  good  behaviour  in  such 
persons.  Every  thing  he  doth  hath  no  mark  of  the  base  mo- 
tive of  fear,  but  visibly  shows  some  respect  and  gratitude, 
and  carries  with  it  the  persuasion  of  love.  And  then  for  his 
virtues :  such  piety  to  his  parents,  such  tender  affection  to 
his  sister,  such  integrity  in  his  friendship,  such  bravery,  such 
goodness,  that,  if  he  had  been  born  a  gentleman,  his  wife 
would  have  possessed  the  most  invaluable  blessing." — "  To  be 
sure,  ma'am,"  says  Slipslop.  "  But  as  he  is,"  answered  the 
lady,  "  if  he  had  a  thousand  more  good  qualities,  it  must 
render  a  woman  of  fashion  contemptible  even  to  be  suspected 
of  thinking  of  him ;  yes,  I  should  despise  myself  for  such  a 
thought." — "  To  be  sure,  ma'am,"  said  Slipslop.  "  And  why 
to  be  sure?"  replied  the  lady;  "thou  art  always  one's  echo. 
Is  he  not  more  worthy  of  affection  than  a  dirty  country 
clown,  though  born  of  a  family  as  old  as  the  flood?  or  an 

270 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

idle  worthless  rake,  or  little  puisny  beau  of  quality?  And 
yet  these  we  must  condemn  ourselves  to,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  censure  of  the  world;  to  shun  the  contempt  of  others, 
we  must  ally  ourselves  to  those  we  despise;  we  must  prefer 
birth,  title,  and  fortune,  to  real  merit.  It  is  a  tyranny  of  cus- 
tom, a  tyranny  we  must  comply  with ;  for  we  people  of  fashion 
are  the  leaves  of  custom." — "  Marry  come  up !  "  said  Slip- 
slop, who  now  knew  well  which  party  to  take.  "  If  I  was  a 
woman  of  your  ladyship's  fortune  and  quality,  I  would  be  a 
slave  to  nobody." — "  Me,"  said  the  lady ;  "  I  am  speaking  if  a 
young  woman  of  fashion,  who  had  seen  nothing  of  the  world, 
should  happen  to  like  such  a  fellow. — Me,  indeed !  I  hope  thou 

dost  not  imagine  " "No,  ma'am,  to  be  sure,"  cries  Slipslop. 

"No!  what  no?"  cried  the  lady.     "Thou  art  always  ready 
to  answer  before  thou  hast  heard  one.     So  far  I  must  allow 
he   is  a  charming  fellow.     Me,   indeed!     No,   Slipslop,   all 
thoughts  of  men  are  over  with  me.     I  have  lost  a  husband 
who — but  if  I  should  reflect  I  should  run  mad.     My  future 
ease  must  depend  upon  forgetfulness.     Slipslop,  let  me  hear 
some  of  thy  nonsense,   to  turn  my   thoughts   another   way. 
What  dost  thou  think  of  Mr  Andrews?" — "Why  I  think," 
says  Slipslop,  "  he  is  the  handsomest,  most  properest  man  I 
ever  saw ;  and  if  I  was  a  lady  of  the  greatest  degree  it  would 
be  well  for  some  folks.  Your  ladyship  may  talk  of  custom, 
if  you  please :  but  I  am  confidous  there  is  no  more  comparison 
between  young  Mr  Andrews  and  most  of  the  young  gentle- 
men who  come  to  your  ladyship's  house  in  London ;  a  parcel 
of  whipper-snapper  sparks :  I  would  sooner  marry  our  old 
parson  Adams.    Never  tell  me  what  people  say,  whilst  I  am 
happy  in  the  arms  of  him  I  love.     Some  folks  rail  against 
other  folks  because  other  folks  have  what  some  folks  would 
be  glad  of." — "  And  so,"  answered  the  lady,  "  if  you  was  a 
woman  of  condition,  you  would  really  marry  Mr  Andrews?  " 
— "  Yes,   I   assure  your  ladyship,"   replied   Slipslop,   '"  if  he 
would   have  me." — "  Fool,   idiot !  "   cries  the   lady ;   "  if   he 
would  have  a  woman  of  fashion  !  is  that  a  question  ?  " — "  No, 
truly,  madam,"  said  Slipslop,  "  I  believe  it  would  be  none  if 
Fanny  was  out  of  the  way ;  and  I  am  confidous,  if  I  was  in 
your  ladyship's  place,  and  liked  Mr  Joseph  Andrews,  she 

271 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

should  not  stay  in  the  parish  a  moment.  I  am  sure  lawyer 
Scout  would  send  her  packing  if  your  ladyship  would  but  say 
the  word."  This  last  speech  of  Slipslop  raised  a  tempest  in 
the  mind  of  her  mistress.  She  feared  Scout  had  betrayed 
her,  or  rather  that  she  had  betrayed  herself.  After  some 
silence,  and  a  double  change  of  her  complexion,  first  to  pale 
and  then  to  red,  she  thus  spoke :  "  I  am  astonished  at  the  lib- 
erty you  give  your  tongue.  Would  you  insinuate  that  I  em- 
ployed Scout  against  this  wench  on  account  of  the  fellow  ?  " 
— "  La,  ma'am,"  said  Slipslop,  frighted  out  of  her  wits,  "  I 
assassinate  such  a  thing !  " — "  I  think  you  dare  not,"  an- 
swered the  lady ;  "  I  believe  my  conduct  may  defy  malice  it- 
self to  assert  so  cursed  a  slander.  If  I  had  ever  discovered 
any  wantonness,  any  lightness  in  my  behaviour ;  if  I  had  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  some  whom  thou  hast,  I  believe,  seen, 
in  allowing  myself  indecent  liberties,  even  with  a  husband ; 
but  the  dear  man  who  is  gone"  (here  she  began  to  sob), 
"was  he  alive  again"  (then  she  produced  tears),  "could 
not  upbraid  me  with  any  one  act  of  tenderness  or  passion. 
No,  Slipslop,  all  the  time  I  cohabited  with  him  he  never  ob- 
tained even  a  kiss  from  me  without  my  expressing  reluctance 
in  the  granting  it.  I  am  sure  he  himself  never  suspected  how 
much  I  loved  him.  Since  his  death,  thou  knowest,  though 
it  is  almost  six  weeks  (it  wants  but  a  day)  ago,  I  have  not 
admitted  one  visitor  till  this  fool  my  nephew  arrived.  I  have 
confined  myself  quite  to  one  party  of  friends.  And  can  such 
a  conduct  as  this  fear  to  be  arraigned  ?  To  be  accused,  not 
only  of  a  passion  which  I  have  always  despised,  but  of  fixing 
it  on  such  an  object,  a  creature  so  much  beneath  my  notice!  " 
— "  Upon  my  word,  ma'am,"  says  Slipslop,  "  I  do  not  under- 
stand your  ladyship ;  nor  know  I  anything  of  the  matter." — 
"  I  believe  indeed  thou  dost  not  understand  me.  These  are 
delicacies  which  exist  only  in  superior  minds ;  thy  coarse 
ideas  cannot  comprehend  them.  Thou  art  a  low  creature,  of 
the  Andrews  breed,  a  reptile  of  a  lower  order,  a  weed  that 
grows  in  the  common  garden  of  the  creation." — "  I  assure 
your  ladyship,"  says  Slipslop,  whose  passions  were  almost  of 
as  high  an  order  as  her  lady's,  "  I  have  no  more  to  do  with 
Common   Garden  than  other   folks.     Really,  your  ladyship 

272 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

talks  of  servants  as  if  they  were  not  born  of  the  Christian 
specious.  Servants  have  flesh  and  blood  as  well  as  quality ; 
and  Mr  Andrews  himself  is  a  proof  that  they  have  as  good, 
if  not  better.  And  for  my  own  part,  I  can't  perceive  my 
dears  *  are  coarser  than  other  people's ;  and  I  am  sure,  if  Mr 
Andrews  was  a  dear  of  mine,  I  should  not  be  ashamed  of 
him  in  company  with  gentlemen  ;  for  whoever  hath  seen  him 
in  his  new  clothes  must  confess  he  looks  as  much  like  a  gen- 
tleman as  anybody.  Coarse,  quotha !  I  can't  bear  to  hear 
the  poor  young  fellow  run  down  neither ;  for  I  will  say  this, 
I  never  heard  him  say  an  ill  word  of  anybody  in  his  life.  I 
am  sure  his  coarseness  doth  not  lie  in  his  heart,  for  he  is  the 
best-natured  man  in  the  world ;  and  as  for  his  skin,  it  is  no 
coarser  than  other  people's,  I  am  sure.  His  bosom,  when  a 
boy,  was  as  white  as  driven  snow ;  and,  where  it  is  not  covered 
with  hairs,  is  so  still.  'Ifaukins !  if  I  was  Mrs  Andrews,  with 
a  hundred  a-year,  I  should  not  envy  the  best  she  who  wears 
a  head.  A  woman  that  could  not  be  happy  with  such  a  man 
ought  never  to  be  so ;  for  if  he  can't  make  a  woman  happy, 
I  never  yet  beheld  the  man  who  could.  I  say  again,  I  wish  I 
was  a  great  lady  for  his  sake.  I  believe,  when  I  had  made  a 
gentleman  of  him,  he'd  behave  so  that  nobody  should  depre- 
cate what  I  had  done;  and  I  fancy  few  would  venture  to  tell 
him  he  was  no  gentleman  to  his  face,  nor  to  mine  neither." 
At  which  words,  taking  up  the  candles,  she  asked  her  mis- 
tress, who  had  been  some  time  in  her  bed,  if  she  had  any  far- 
ther commands  ?  who  mildly  answered,  she  had  none ;  and, 
telling  her  she  was  a  comical  creature,  bid  her  good  night. 

*  Meaning  perhaps  ideas. 


jr 


18  2?3 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 


CHAPTER   VII. 

PHILOSOPHICAL  REFLECTIONS,  THE  LIKE  NOT  TO  BE  FOUND  IN 
ANY  LIGHT  FRENCH  ROMANCE.  MR  BOOBY'S  GRAVE  ADVICE 
TO  JOSEPH,  AND  FANNY'S  ENCOUNTER  WITH  A  BEAU. 

HABIT,  my  good  reader,  hath  so  vast  a  prevalence  over 
the  human  mind,  that  there  is  scarce  anything  too 
strange  or  too  strong  to  be  asserted  of  it.  The  story  of  the 
miser,  who,  from  long  accustoming  to  cheat  others,  came  at 
last  to  cheat  himself,  and  with  great  delight  and  triumph 
picked  his  own  pocket  of  a  guinea  to  convey  to  his  hoard,  is 
not  impossible  or  improbable.  In  like  manner  it  fares  with 
the  practisers  of  deceit,  who,  from  having  long  deceived  their 
acquaintance,  gain  at  last  a  power  of  deceiving  themselves, 
and  acquire  that  very  opinion  (however  false)  of  their  own 
abilities,  excellencies,  and  virtues,  into  which  they  have  for 
years  perhaps  endeavoured  to  betray  their  neighbours.  Now, 
reader,  to  apply  this  observation  to  my  present  purpose,  thou 
must  know,  that  as  the  passion  generally  called  love  exercises 
most  of  the  talents  of  the  female  or  fair  world,  so  in  this  they 
now  and  then  discover  a  small  inclination  to  deceit ;  for  which 
thou  wilt  not  be  angry  with  the  beautiful  creatures  when 
thou  hast  considered  that  at  the  age  of  seven,  or  something 
earlier,  miss  is  instructed  by  her  mother  that  master  is  a  very 
monstrous  kind  of  animal,  who  will,  if  she  suffers  him  to 
come  too  near  her,  infallibly  eat  her  up  and  grind  her  to 
pieces :  that,  so  far  from  kissing  or  toying  with  him  of  her 
own  accord,  she  must  not  admit  him  to  kiss  or  toy  with  her: 
and,  lastly,  that  she  must  never  have  any  affection  towards 
him  ;  for  if  she  should,  all  her  friends  in  petticoats  would 
esteem  her  a  traitress,  point  at  her,  and  hunt  her  out  of  their 
society.  These  impressions,  being  first  received,  are  farther 
and  deeper  inculcated  by  their  school-mistresses  and  com- 
panions ;  so  that  by  the  age  of  ten  they  have  contracted  such 
a  dread  and  abhorrence  of  the  above-named  monster,  that 
whenever  they  see  him  they  fly  from  him  as  the  innocent  hare 
doth  from  the  greyhound.  Hence,  to  the  age  of  fourteen  or 
fifteen,  they  entertain  a  mighty  antipathy  to  master;  they  re- 

274 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

solve,  and  frequently  profess,  that  they  will  never  have  any 
commerce  with  him,  and  entertain  fond  hopes  of  passing  their 
lives  out  of  his  reach,  of  the  possibility  of  which  they  have 
so  visible  an  example  in  their  good  maiden  aunt.  But  when 
they  arrive  at  this  period,  and  have  now  passed  their  second 
climacteric,  when  their  wisdom,  grown  riper,  begins  to  see 
a  little  farther,  and,  from  almost  daily  falling  in  master's 
way,  to  apprehend  the  great  difficulty  of  keeping  out  of  it ; 
and  when  they  observe  him  look  often  at  them,  and  some- 
times very  eagerly  and  earnestly  too  (for  the  monster  sel- 
dom takes  any  notice  of  them  till  at  this  age),  they  then  begin 
to  think  of  their  danger;  and,  as  they  perceive  they  cannot 
easily  avoid  him,  the  wiser  part  bethink  themselves  of  pro- 
viding by  other  means  for  their  security.  They  endeavour, 
by  all  methods  they  can  invent,  to  render  themselves  so  amia- 
ble in  his  eyes,  that  he  may  have  no  inclination  to  hurt  them ; 
in  which  they  generally  succeed  so  well,  that  his  eyes,  by 
frequent  languishing,  soon  lessen  their  idea  of  his  fierce- 
ness, and  so  far  abate  their  fears,  that  they  venture  to  parley 
with  him ;  and  when  they  perceive  him  so  different  from  what 
he  hath  been  described,  all  gentleness,  softness,  kindness,  ten- 
derness, fondness,  their  dreadful  apprehensions  vanish  in  a 
moment;  and  now  (it  being  usual  with  the  human  mind  to 
skip  from  one  extreme  to  its  opposite,  as  easily,  and  almost 
as  suddenly,  as  a  bird  from  one  bough  to  another)  love  in- 
stantly succeeds  to  fear :  but,  as  it  happens  to  persons  who 
have  in  their  infancy  been  thoroughly  frightened  with  certain 
no-persons  called  ghosts,  that  they  retain  their  dread  of  those 
beings  after  they  are  convinced  that  there  are  no  such  things, 
so  these  young  ladies,  though  they  no  longer  apprehend  de- 
vouring, cannot  so  entirely  shake  off  all  that  hath  been  in- 
stilled into  them ;  they  still  entertain  the  idea  of  that  censure 
which  was  so  strongly  imprinted  on  their  tender  minds,  to 
which  the  declarations  of  abhorrence  they  every  day  hear 
from  their  companions  greatly  contribute.  To  avoid  this  cen- 
sure, therefore,  is  now  their  only  care ;  for  which  purpose 
they  still  pretend  the  same  aversion  to  the  monster :  and  the 
more  they  love  him,  the  more  ardently  they  counterfeit  the 
antipathy.  By  the  continual  and  constant  practice  of  which 
deceit  on  others,  they  at  length  impose  on  themselves,  and 

275 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

really  believe  they  hate  what, they  love.  Thus,  indeed,  it 
happened  to  Lady  Booby,  who  loved  Joseph  long  before  she 
knew  it ;  and  now  loved  him  much  more  than  she  suspected. 
She  had  indeed,  from  the  time  of  his  sister's  arrival  in  the 
quality  of  her  niece,  and  from  the  instant  she  viewed  him  in 
the  dress  and  character  of  a  gentleman,  began  to  conceive 
secretly  a  design  which  love  had  concealed  from  herself  till 
a  dream  betrayed  it  to  her. 

She  had  no  sooner  risen  than  she  sent  for  her  nephew. 
When  he  came  to  her,  after  many  compliments  on  his  choice, 
she  told  him,  he  might  perceive,  in  her  condescension  to  admit 
her  own  servant  to  her  table,  that  she  looked  on  the  family 
of  Andrews  as  his  relations,  and  indeed  hers ;  that,  as  he  had 
married  into  such  a  family,  it  became  him  to  endeavour  by 
all  methods  to  raise  it  as  much  as  possible.  At  length  she 
advised  him  to  use  all  his  heart  to  dissuade  Joseph  from  his 
intended  match,  which  would  still  enlarge  their  relation  to 
meanness  and  poverty ;  concluding  that,  by  a  commission  in 
the  army,  or  some  other  genteel  employment,  he  might  soon 
put  young  Mr  Andrews  on  the  foot  of  a  gentleman ;  and,  that 
being  once  done,  his  accomplishments  might  quickly  gain  him 
an  alliance  which  would  not  be  to  their  discredit. 

Her  nephew  heartily  embraced  this  proposal ;  and,  finding 
Mr  Joseph  with  his  wife,  at  his  return  to  her  chamber,  he 
immediately  began  thus :  "  My  love  to  my  dear  Pamela,  bro- 
ther, will  extend  to  all  her  relations ;  nor  shall  I  show  them 
less  respect  than  if  I  married  into  the  family  of  a  duke.  I 
hope  I  have  given  you  some  early  testimonies  of  this,  and 
shall  continue  to  give  you  daily  more.  You  will  excuse  me 
therefore,  brother,  if  my  concern  for  your  interest  makes  me 
mention  what  may  be,  perhaps,  disagreeable  to  you  to  hear : 
but  I  must  insist  upon  it,  that,  if  you  have  any  value  for  my 
alliance  or  my  friendship,  you  will  decline  any  thoughts  of 
engaging  farther  with  a  girl  who  is,  as  you  are  a  relation  of 
mine,  so  much  beneath  you.  I  know  there  may  be  at  first 
some  difficulty  in  your  compliance,  but  that  will  daily  dimin- 
ish ;  and  you  will  in  the  end  sincerely  thank  me  for  my  advice. 
I  own  indeed,  the  girl  is  handsome;  but  beauty  alone  is  a 
poor  ingredient,  and  will  make  but  an  uncomfortable  mar- 
riage."— "  Sir,"  said  Joseph,  "  I  assure  you  her  beauty  is  her 

276 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

least  perfection;  nor  do  I  know  a  virtue  which  that  young 
creature  is  not  possest  of." — "  As  to  her  virtues,"  answered 
Mr  Booby,  "  you  can  be  yet  but  a  slender  judge  of  them;  but, 
if  she  had  never  so  many,  you  will  find  her  equal  in  these 
among  her  superiors  in  birth  and  fortune,  which  now  you  are 
to  esteem  on  a  footing  with  yourself,  at  least  I  will  take  care 
they  shall  shortly  be  so,  unless  you  prevent  me  by  degrading 
yourself  with  such  a  match,  a  match  I  have  hardly  patience 
to  think  of,  and  which  would  break  the  hearts  of  your  parents, 
who  now  rejoice  in  the  expectation  of  seeing  you  make  a  figure 
in  the  world." — "  I  know  not,"  replied  Joseph,  "  that  my 
parents  have  any  power  over  my  inclinations  ;  nor  am  I  obliged 
to  sacrifice  my  happiness  to  their  whim  or  ambition :  besides, 
I  shall  be  very  sorry  to  see  that  the  unexpected  advancement 
of  my  sister  should  so  suddenly  inspire  them  with  this  wicked 
pride,  and  make  them  despise  their  equals.  I  am  resolved 
on  no  account  to  quit  my  dear  Fanny;  no,  though  I  could 
raise  her  as  high  above  her  present  station  as  you  have  my 
sister." — "  Your  sister,  as  well  as  myself,"  said  Booby,  "  are 
greatly  obliged  to  you  for  the  comparison :  but,  sir,  she  is 
not  worthy  to  be  compared  in  beauty  to  my  Pamela ;  nor  hath 
she  half  her  merit.  And  besides,  sir,  as  you  civilly  throw 
my  marriage  with  your  sister  in  my  teeth,  I  must  teach  you 
the  wide  difference  between  us :  my  fortune  enabled  me  to 
please  myself;  and  it  would  have  been  as  overgrown  a  folly 
in  me  to  have  omitted  it  as  in  you  to  do  it." — "  My  fortune 
enables  me  to  please  myself  likewise,"  said  Joseph ;  "  for  all 
my  pleasure  is  centred  in  Fanny ;  and  whilst  I  have  health  I 
shall  be  able  to  support  her  with  my  labour  in  that  station 
to  which  she  was  born,  and  with  which  she  is  content." — 
"  Brother,"  said  Pamela,  "  Mr  Booby  advises  you  as  a  friend ; 
and  no  doubt  my  papa  and  mamma  will  be  of  his  opinion,  and 
will  have  great  reason  to  be  angry  with  you  for  destroying 
what  his  goodness  hath  done,  and  throwing  down  our  family 
again,  after  he  hath  raised  it.  It  would  become  you  better, 
brother,  to  pray  for  the  assistance  of  grace  against  such  a 
passion  than  to  indulge  it." — "  Sure,  sister,  you  are  not  in 
earnest ;  I  am  sure  she  is  your  equal,  at  least." — "  She  was 
my  equal,"  answered  Pamela ;  "  but  I  am  no  longer  Pamela 
Andrews;  I  am  now  this  gentleman's  lady,  and,  as  such,  am 

277 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

above  her. — I  hope  I  shall  never  behave  with  an  unbecoming 
pride:  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  shall  always  endeavour  to 
know  myself,  and  question  not  the  assistance  of  grace  to  that 
purpose."  They  were  now  summoned  to  breakfast,  and  thus 
ended  their  discourse  for  the  present,  very  little  to  the  satis- 
faction of  any  of  the  parties. 

Fanny  was  now  walking  in  an  avenue  at  some  distance 
from  the  house,  where  Joseph  had  promised  to  take  the  first 
opportunity  of  coming  to  her.  She  had  not  a  shilling  in  the 
world,  and  had  subsisted  ever  since  her  return  entirely  on 
the  charity  of  parson  Adams.  A  young  gentleman,  attended 
by  many  servants,  came  up  to  her,  and  asked  her  if  that  was 
not  the  Lady  Booby's  house  before  him?  This,  indeed,  he 
well  know ;  but  had  framed  the  question  for  no  other  reason 
than  to  make  her  look  up,  and  discover  if  her  face  was  equal 
to  the  delicacy  of  her  shape.  He  no  sooner  saw  it  than  he 
was  struck  with  amazement.  He  stopt  his  horse,  and  swore 
she  was  the  most  beautiful  creature  he  ever  beheld.  Then, 
instantly  alighting  and  delivering  his  horse  to  his  servant, 
he  rapt  out  half-a-dozen  oaths  that  he  would  kiss  her:  to 
which  she  at  first  submitted,  begging  he  would  not  be  rude; 
but  he  was  not  satisfied  with  the  civility  of  a  salute,  nor 
even  with  the  rudest  attack  he  could  make  on  her  lips,  but 
caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  endeavoured  to  kiss  her  breasts, 
which  with  all  her  strength  she  resisted,  and,  as  our  spark 
was  not  of  the  Herculean  race,  with  some  difficulty  prevented. 
The  young  gentleman,  being  soon  out  of  breath  in  the  strug- 
gle, quitted  her,  and,  remounting  his  horse,  called  one  of 
his  servants  to  him,  whom  he  ordered  to  stay  behind  with 
her,  and  make  her  any  offers  whatever  to  prevail  on  her  to 
return  home  with  him  in  the  evening;  and  to  assure  her  he 
would  take  her  into  keeping.  He  then  rode  on  with  his  other 
servants,  and  arrived  at  the  lady's  house,  to  whom  he  was  a 
distant  relation,  and  was  come  to  pay  a  visit. 

The  trusty  fellow,  who  was  employed  in  an  office  he  had 
been  long  accustomed  to,  discharged  his  part  with  all  the 
fidelity  and  dexterity  imaginable,  but  to  no  purpose.  She  was 
entirely  deaf  to  his  offers,  and  rejected  them  with  the  utmost 
disdain.  At  last  the  pimp,  who  had  perhaps  more  warm 
blood  about  him  than  his  master,  began  to  solicit  for  himself; 

278 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

he  told  her,  though  he  was  a  servant,  he  was  a  man  of  some 
fortune,  which  he  would  make  her  mistress  of;  and  this 
without  any  insult  to  her  virtue,  for  that  he  would  marry  her. 
She  answered,  if  his  master  himself,  or  the  greatest  lord  in  the 
land,  would  marry  her,  she  would  refuse  him.  At  last,  being 
weary  with  persuasions,  and  on  fire  with  charms  which  would 
have  almost  kindled  a  flame  in  the  bosom  of  an  ancient  phi- 
losopher or  modern  divine,  he  fastened  his  horse  to  the 
ground,  and  attacked  her  with  much  more  force  than  the  gen- 
tleman had  exerted.  Poor  Fanny  would  not  have  been  able  to 
resist  his  rudeness  any  long  time,  but  the  deity  who  presides 
over  chaste  love  sent  her  Joseph  to  her  assistance.  He  no 
sooner  came  within  sight,  and  perceived  her  struggling  with  a 
man,  than,  like  a  cannon-ball,  or  like  lightning,  or  anything 
that  is  swifter,  if  anything  be,  he  ran  towards  her,  and,  com- 
ing up  just  as  the  ravisher  had  torn  her  handkerchief  from 
her  breast,  before  his  lips  had  touched  that  seat  of  innocence 
and  bliss,  he  dealt  him  so  lusty  a  blow  in  that  part  of  his  neck 
which  a  rope  would  have  become  with  the  utmost  propriety, 
that  the  fellow  staggered  backwards,  and,  perceiving  he  had 
to  do  with  something  rougher  than  the  little,  tender,  trem- 
bling hand  of  Fanny,  he  quitted  her,  and,  turning  about,  saw 
his  rival,  with  fire  flashing  from  his  eyes,  again  ready  to 
assail  him ;  and,  indeed,  before  he  could  well  defend  himself, 
or  return  the  first  blow,  he  received  a  second,  which,  had 
it  fallen  on  that  part  of  the  stomach  to  which  it  was  directed, 
would  have  been  probably  the  last  he  would  have  had  any 
occasion  for;  but  the  ravisher,  lifting  up  his  hand,  drove  the 
blow  upwards  to  his  mouth,  whence  it  dislodged  three  of  his 
teeth ;  and,  now,  not  conceiving  any  extraordinary  affection 
for  the  beauty  of  Joseph's  person,  nor  being  extremely  pleased 
with  this  method  of  salutation,  he  collected  all  his  force,  and 
aimed  a  blow  at  Joseph's  breast,  which  he  artfully  parried 
with  one  fist,  so  that  it  lost  its  force  entirely  in  air ;  and, 
stepping  one  foot  backward,  he  darted  his  fist  so  fiercely  at  his 
enemy,  that,  had  he  not  caught  it  in  his  hand  (for  he  was 
a  boxer  of  no  inferior  fame),  it  must  have  tumbled  him  on 
the  ground.  And  now  the  ravisher  meditated  another  blow, 
which  he  aimed  at  that  part  of  the  breast  where  the  heart 
is  lodged;  Joseph  did  not  catch  it  as  before,  yet  so  prevented 

279 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

its  aim  that  it  fell  directly  on  his  nose,  but  with  abated  force. 
Joseph  then,  moving  both  fist  and  foot  forwards  at  the  same 
time,  threw  his  head  so  dexterously  into  the  stomach  of  the 
ravisher  that  he  fell  a  lifeless  lump  on  the  field,  where  he  lay 
many  minutes  breathless  and  motionless. 

When  Fanny  saw  her  Joseph  receive  a  blow  in  his  face, 
and  blood  running  in  a  stream  from  him,  she  began  to  tear 
her  hair  and  invoke  all  human  and  divine  power  to  his  assis- 
tance. She  was  not,  however,  long  under  this  affliction  be- 
fore Joseph,  having  conquered  his  enemy,  ran  to  her,  and 
assured  her  he  was  not  hurt;  she  then  instantly  fell  on  her 
knees  and  thanked  God  that  he  had  made  Joseph  the  means 
of  her  rescue,  and  at  the  same  time  preserved  him  from  being 
injured  in  attempting  it.  She  offered,  with  her  handkerchief, 
to  wipe  his  blood  from  his  face ;  but  he,  seeing  his  rival  at- 
tempting to  recover  his  legs,  turned  to  him,  and  asked  him 
if  he  had  enough?  To  which  the  other  answered  he  had; 
for  he  believed  he  had  fought  with  the  devil  instead  of  a  man ; 
and,  loosening  his  horse,  said  he  should  not  have  attempted 
the  wench  if  he  had  known  she  had  been  so  well  provided  for. 

Fanny  now  begged  Joseph  to  return  with  her  to  parson 
Adams,  and  to  promise  that  he  would  leave  her  no  more. 
These  were  propositions  so  agreeable  to  Joseph,  that,  had  he 
heard  them,  he  would  have  given  an  immediate  assent;  but 
indeed  his  eyes  were  now  his  only  sense ;  for  you  may  re 
member,  reader,  that  the  ravisher  had  tore  her  handkerchief 
from  Fanny's  neck,  by  which  he  had  discovered  such  a  sight, 
that  Joseph  hath  declared  all  the  statues  he  ever  beheld  were 
so  much  inferior  to  it  in  beauty,  that  it  was  more  capable  of 
converting  a  man  into  a  statue  than  of  being  initiated  by  the 
greatest  master  of  that  art.  This  modest  creature,  whom  no 
warmth  in  summer  could  ever  induce  to  expose  her  charms 
to  the  wanton  sun,  a  modesty  to  which,  perhaps,  they  owed 
their  inconceivable  whiteness,  had  stood  many  minutes  bare- 
necked in  the  presence  of  Joseph  before  her  apprehension  of 
his  danger  and  the  horror  of  seeing  his  blood  would  suffer 
her  once  to  reflect  on  what  concerned  herself;  till  at  last, 
when  the  cause  of  her  concern  had  vanished,  an  admiration 
at  his  silence,  together  with  observing  the  fixed  position  of 
his  eyes,  produced  an  idea  in  the  lovely  maid  which  brought 

280 


1  > 

"■1 

I 

v 

llaUfc?.;,  F. 
-was?' 

' 

JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

more  blood  into  her  face  than  had  flowed  from  Joseph's 
nostrils.  The  snowy  hue  of  her  bosom  was  likewise  changed 
to  vermilion  at  the  instant  when  she  clapped  her  handker- 
chief round  her  neck.  Joseph  saw  the  uneasiness  she  suf- 
fered, and  immediately  removed  his  eyes  from  an  object,  in 
surveying  which  he  had  felt  the  greatest  delight  which  the 
organs  of  sight  were  capable  of  conveying  to  his  soul ; — so 
great  was  his  fear  of  offending  her,  and  so  truly  did  his  pas- 
sion for  her  deserve  the  noble  name  of  love. 

Fanny,  being  recovered  from  her  confusion,  which  was 
almost  equalled  by  what  Joseph  had  felt  from  observing  it, 
again  mentioned  her  request ;  this  was  instantly  and  gladly 
complied  with ;  and  together  they  crossed  two  or  three  fields, 
which  brought  them  to  the  habitation  of  Mr  Adams. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  DISCOURSE  WHICH  HAPPENED  BETWEEN  MR  ADAMS,  MRS 
ADAMS,  JOSEPH,  AND  FANNY;  WITH  SOME  BEHAVIOUR  OF 
MR  ADAMS  WHICH  WILL  BE  CALLED  BY  SOME  FEW  READERS 
VERY  LOW,  ABSURD,  AND  UNNATURAL. 

THE  parson  and  his  wife  had  just  ended  a  long  dispute 
when  the  lovers  came  to  the  door.  Indeed,  this  young 
couple  had  been  the  subject  of  the  dispute ;  for  Mrs  Adams 
was  one  of  those  prudent  people  who  never  do  anything  to 
injure  their  families,  or,  perhaps,  one  of  those  good  mothers 
who  would  even  stretch  their  conscience  to  serve  their  chil- 
dren. She  had  long  entertained  hopes  of  seeing  her  eldest 
daughter  succeeded  Mrs  Slipslop,  and  of  making  her  second 
son  an  exciseman  by  Lady  Booby's  interest.  These  were  ex- 
pectations she  could  not  endure  the  thoughts  of  quitting,  and 
was,  therefore,  very  uneasy  to  see  her  husband  so  resolute  to 
oppose  the  lady's  intention  in  Fanny's  affair.  She  told  him, 
it  behoved  every  man  to  take  the  first  care  of  his  family ;  that 
he  had  a  wife  and  six  children,  the  maintaining  and  providing 
for  whom  would  be  business  enough  for  him  without  inter- 
meddling in  other  folks'  affairs ;  that  he  had  always  preached 

281 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

up  submission  to  superiors,  and  would  do  ill  to  give  an  exam- 
ple of  the  contrary  behaviour  in  his  own  conduct ;  that  if  Lady 
Booby  did  wrong  she  must  answer  for  it  herself,  and  the  sin 
would  not  lie  at  their  door;  that  Fanny  had  been  a  servant, 
and  bred  up  in  the  lady's  own  family,  and  consequently  she 
must  have  known  more  of  her  than  they  did,  and  it  was  very 
improbable,  if  she  had  behaved  herself  well,  that  the  lady 
would  have  been  so  bitterly  her  enemy;  that  perhaps  he  was 
too  much  inclined  to  think  well  of  her  because  she  was  hand- 
some, but  handsome  women  were  often  no  better  than  they 
should  be ;  that  God  made  ugly  women  as  well  as  handsome 
ones;  and  that  if  a  woman  had  virtue  it  signified  nothing 
whether  she  had  beauty  or  no."  For  all  which  reasons  she 
concluded  he  should  oblige  the  lady,  and  stop  the  future  pub- 
lication of  the  banns.  But  all  these  excellent  arguments  had 
no  effect  on  the  parson,  who  persisted  in  doing  his  duty  with- 
out regarding  the  consequence  it  might  have  on  his  worldly 
interest.  He  endeavoured  to  answer  her  as  well  as  he  could ; 
to  which  she  had  just  finished  her  reply  (for  she  had  always 
the  last  word  everywhere  but  at  church)  when  Joseph  and 
Fanny  entered  their  kitchen,  where  the  parson  and  his  wife 
then  sat  at  breakfast  over  some  bacon  and  cabbage.  There 
was  a  coldness  in  the  civility  of  Mrs  Adams  which  persons  of 
accurate  speculation  might  have  observed,  but  escaped  her 
present  guests;  indeed,  it  was  a  good  deal  covered  by  the 
heartiness  of  Adams,  who  no  sooner  heard  that  Fanny  had 
neither  eat  nor  drank  that  morning  than  he  presented  her  a 
bone  of  bacon  he  had  just  been  gnawing,  being  the  only  re- 
mains of  his  provision,  and  then  ran  nimbly  to  the  tap,  and 
produced  a  mug  of  small  beer,  which  he  called  ale ;  however, 
it  was  the  best  in  his  house.  Joseph,  addressing  himself  to 
the  parson,  told  him  the  discourse  which  had  past  between 
Squire  Booby,  his  sister,  and  himself,  concerning  Fanny;  he 
then  acquainted  him  with  the  dangers  whence  he  had  rescued 
her,  and  communicated  some  apprehensions  on  her  account. 
He  concluded  that  he  should  never  have  an  easy  moment  till 
Fanny  was  absolutely  his,  and  begged  that  he  might  be  suf- 
fered to  fetch  a  licence,  saying  he  could  easily  borrow  the 
money.    The  parson  answered,  that  he  had  already  given  his 

282 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

sentiments  concerning  a  licence,  and  that  a  very  few  days 
would  make  it  unnecessary.  "  Joseph,"  says  he,  "  I  wish  this 
haste  doth  not  arise  rather  from  your  impatience  than  your 
fear ;  but,  as  it  certainly  springs  from  one  of  these  causes,  I 
will  examine  both.  Of  each  of  these  therefore  in  their  turn ; 
and  first  for  the  first  of  these,  namely,  impatience.  Now, 
child,  I  must  inform  you  that,  if  in  your  purposed  marriage 
with  this  young  woman  you  have  no  intention  but  the  indul- 
gence of  carnal  appetites,  you  are  guilty  of  a  very  heinous  sin. 
Marriage  was  ordained  for  nobler  purposes,  as  you  will  learn 
when  you  hear  the  service  provided  on  that  occasion  read  to 
you.  Nay,  perhaps,  if  you  are  a  good  lad,  I  shall  give  you 
a  sermon  gratis,  wherein  I  shall  demonstrate  how  little  regard 
ought  to  be  had  to  the  flesh  on  such  occasions.  The  text  will 
be,  child,  Matthew  the  5th,  and  part  of  the  28th  verse — Who- 
soever looketh  on  a  zvoman,  so  as  to  lust  after  her.  The  lat- 
ter part  I  shall  omit,  as  foreign  to  my  purpose.  Indeed,  all 
such  brutal  lusts  and  affections  are  to  be  greatly  subdued, 
if  not  totally  eradicated,  before  the  vessel  can  be  said  to  be 
consecrated  to  honour.  To  marry  with  a  view  of  gratifying 
those  inclinations  is  a  prostitution  of  that  holy  ceremony,  and 
must  entail  a  curse  on  all  who  so  lightly  undertake  it.  If, 
therefore,  this  haste  arises  from  impatience,  you  are  to  cor- 
rect, and  not  give  way  to  it.  Now,  as  to  the  second  head 
which  I  proposed  to  speak  to,  namely,  fear :  it  argues  a  diffi- 
dence, highly  criminal,  of  that  Power  in  which  alone  we 
should  put  our  trust,  seeing  we  may  be  well  assured  that  he 
is  able,  not  only  to  defeat  the  designs  of  our  enemies,  but  even 
to  turn  their  hearts.  Instead  of  taking,  therefore,  any  unjus- 
tifiable or  desperate  means  to  rid  ourselves  of  fear,  we  should 
resort  to  prayer  only  on  these  occasions ;  and  we  may  be  then 
certain  of  obtaining  what  is  best  for  us.  When  any  accident 
threatens  us  we  are  not  to  despair,  nor,  when  it  overtakes  us, 
to  grieve ;  we  must  submit  in  all  things  to  the  will  of  Provi- 
dence, and  not  set  our  affections  so  much  on  anything  here  as 
not  to  be  able  to  quit  it  without  reluctance.  You  are  a  young 
man,  and  can  know  but  little  of  this  world  ;  I  am  older,  and 
have  seen  a  great  deal.  All  passions  are  criminal  in  their  ex- 
cess; and  even  love  itself,  if  it  is  not  subservient  to  our  duty, 

283 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

mav  render  us  blind  to  it.     Had  Abraham  so  loved  his  son 
Isaac  as  to  refuse  the  sacrifice  required,  is  there  any  of  us  who 
would  not  condemn  him?    Joseph,  I  know  your  many  good 
qualities,  and  value  you  for  them ;  but,  as  I  am  to  render  an 
account  of  your  soul,  which  is  committed  to  my  cure,  I  cannot 
see  any  fault  without  reminding  you  of  it.    You  are  too  much 
inclined  to  passion,  child,  and  have  set  your  affections  so  ab- 
solutely on  this  young  woman,  that,  if  God  required  her  at 
your  hands,  I  fear  you  would  reluctantly  part  with  her.    Now, 
believe  me,  no  Christian  ought  so  to  set  his  heart  on  any  per- 
son or  thing  in  this  world,  but  that,  whenever  it  shall  be  re- 
quired or  taken  from  him  in  any  manner  by  Divine  Provi- 
dence, he  may  be  able,  peaceably,  quietly,  and  contentedly  to 
resign  it."     At  which  words  one  came  hastily  in,  and  ac- 
quainted Mr  Adams  that  his  youngest  son  was  drowned.    He 
stood  silent  a  moment,  and  soon  began  to  stamp  about  the 
room  and  deplore  his  loss  with  the  bitterest  agony.     Joseph, 
who  was  overwhelmed  with  concern  likewise,  recovered  him- 
self sufficiently  to  endeavour  to  comfort  the  parson ;  in  which 
attempt  he  used  many  arguments  that  he  had  at  several  times 
remembered  out  of  his  own  discourses,  both  in  private  and 
public    (for   he   was   a   great   enemy   to   the   passions,    and 
preached  nothing  more  than  the  conquest  of  them  by  reason 
and  grace),  but  he  was  not  at  leisure  now  to  hearken  to  his 
advice.    "  Child,  child,"  said  he,  "  do  not  go  about  impossibili- 
ties.   Had  it  been  any  other  of  my  children  I  could  have  borne 
it  with  patience ;  but  my  little  prattler,  the  darling  and  com- 
fort of  my  old  age, — the  little  wretch,  to  be  snatched  out  of 
life  just  at  his  entrance  into  it;  the  sweetest,  best-tempered 
boy,  who  never  did  a  thing  to  offend  me.     It  was  but  this 
morning  I  gave  him  his  first  lesson  in  Quce  Genus.    This  was 
the  very  book  he  learnt ;  poor  child !  it  is  of  no  further  use  to 
thee  now.     He  would  have  made  the  best  scholar,  and  have 
been  an  ornament  to  the  church ; — such  parts  and  such  good- 
ness never  met  in  one  so  young."    "  And  the  handsomest  lad 
too,"  says  Mrs  Adams,  recovering  from  a  swoon  in  Fanny's 
arms.    "  My  poor  Jacky,  shall  I  never  see  thee  more  ?  "  cries 
the  parson.     "  Yes,  surely,"  says  Joseph,  "  and  in  a  better 
place ;  you  will  meet  again,  never  to  part  more."    I  believe  the 

284 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

parson  did  not  hear  these  words,  for  he  paid  little  regard  to 
them,  but  went  on  lamenting,  whilst  the  tears  trickled  down 
into  his  bosom.  At  last  he  cried  out,  "  Where  is  my  little  dar- 
ling? "  and  was  sallying  out,  when  to  his  great  surprize  and 
joy,  in  which  I  hope  the  reader  will  sympathize,  he  met  his 
son  in  a  wet  condition  indeed,  but  alive  and  running  towards 
him.  The  person  who  brought  the  news  of  his  misfortune  had 
been  a  little  too  eager,  as  people  sometimes  are,  from,  I  be- 
lieve, no  very  good  principle,  to  relate  ill  news ;  and,  having 
seen  him  fall  into  the  river,  instead  of  running  to  his  assis- 
tance, directly  ran  to  acquaint  his  father  of  a  fate  which  he 
had  concluded  to  be  inevitable,  but  whence  the  child  was  re- 
lieved by  the  same  poor  pedlar  who  had  relieved  his  father 
before  from  a  less  distress.  The  parson's  joy  was  now  as  ex- 
travagant as  his  grief  had  been  before ;  he  kissed  and  em- 
braced his  son  a  thousand  times,  and  danced  about  the  room 
like  one  frantic ;  but  as  soon  as  he  discovered  the  face  of  his 
old  friend  the  pedlar,  and  heard  the  fresh  obligation  he  had  to 
him,  what  were  his  sensations  ?  not  those  which  two  courtiers 
feel  in  one  another's  embraces ;  not  those  with  which  a  great 
man  receives  the  vile  treacherous  engines  of  his  wicked  pur- 
poses, not  those  with  which  a  worthless  younger  brother  wishes 
his  elder  joy  of  a  son,  or  a  man  congratulates  his  rival  on  his 
obtaining  a  mistress,  a  place,  or  an  honour. — No,  reader;  he 
felt  the  ebullition,  the  overflowings  of  a  full,  honest,  open 
heart,  towards  the  person  who  had  conferred  a  real  obligation, 
and  of  which,  if  thou  canst  not  conceive  an  idea  within,  I  will 
not  vainly  endeavour  to  assist  thee. 

When  these  tumults  were  over,  the  parson,  taking  Joseph 
aside,  proceeded  thus — "  No,  Joseph,  do  not  give  too  much 
way  to  thy  passions,  if  thou  dost  expect  happiness."  The  pa- 
tience of  Joseph,  nor  perhaps  of  Job,  could  bear  no  longer ;  he 
interrupted  the  parson,  saying,  it  was  easier  to  give  advice 
than  to  take  it ;  nor  did  he  perceive  he  could  so  entirely  con- 
quer himself,  when  he  apprehended  he  had  lost  his  son,  or 
when  he  found  him  recovered. — "  Boy,"  replied  Adams,  rais- 
ing his  voice,  "  it  doth  not  become  green  heads  to  advise  grey 
hairs. — Thou  art  ignorant  of  the  tenderness  of  fatherly  affec- 
tion ;  when  thou  art  a  father  thou  wilt  be  capable  then  only  of 

285 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

knowing  what  a  father  can  feel.  No  man  is  obliged  to  im- 
possibilities ;  and  the  loss  of  a  child  is  one  of  those  great  trials 
where  our  grief  may  be  allowed  to  become  immoderate." — 
"  Well,  sir,"  cries  Joseph,  "  and  if  I  love  a  mistress  as  well  as 
you  your  child,  surely  her  loss  would  grieve  me  equally." — 
'  Yes,  but  such  love  is  foolishness  and  wrong  in  itself,  and 
ought  to  be  conquered,"  answered  Adams ;  "  it  savours  too 
much  of  the  flesh." — "  Sure,  sir,"  says  Joseph,  "  it  is  not  sin- 
ful to  love  my  wife,  no,  not  even  to  doat  on  her  to  distrac- 
tion !  " — "  Indeed  but  it  is,"  says  Adams.  "Every  man  ought 
to  love  his  wife,  no  doubt ;  we  are  commanded  so  to  do ;  but 
we  ought  to  love  her  with  moderation  and  discretion." — "  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  be  guilty  of  some  sin  in  spite  of  all  my  endeav- 
ours," says  Joseph ;  "  for  I  shall  love  without  any  moderation, 
I  am  sure." — "  You  talk  foolishly  and  childishly,"  cries 
Adams. — "  Indeed,"  says  Mrs  Adams,  who  had  listened  to 
the  latter  part  of  their  conversation,  "  you  talk  more  foolishly 
yourself.  I  hope,  my  dear,  you  will  never  preach  any  such 
doctrine  as  that  husbands  can  love  their  wives  too  well.  If  I 
knew  you  had  such  a  sermon  in  the  house  I  am  sure  I  would 
burn  it,  and  I  declare,  if  I  had  not  been  convinced  you  had 
loved  me  as  well  as  you  could,  I  can  answer  for  myself,  I 
should  have  hated  and  despised  you.  Marry  come  up !  Fine 
doctrine,  indeed!  A  wife  hath  a  right  to  insist  on  her  hus- 
band's loving  her  as  much  as  ever  he  can ;  and  he  is  a  sinful 
villain  who  doth  not.  Doth  he  not  promise  to  love  her,  and  to 
comfort  her,  and  to  cherish  her,  and  all  that  ?  I  am  sure  I  re- 
member it  all  as  well  as  if  I  had  repeated  it  over  but  yesterday, 
and  shall  never  forget  it.  Besides,  I  am  certain  you  do  not 
preach  as  you  practise ;  for  you  have  been  a  loving  and  a  cher- 
ishing husband  to  me ;  that's  the  truth  on't ;  and  why  you 
should  endeavour  to  put  such  wicked  nonsense  into  this  young 
man's  head  I  cannot  devise.  Don't  hearken  to  him,  Mr  Jo- 
seph ;  be  as  good  a  husband  as  you  are  able,  and  love  your 
wife  with  all  your  body  and  soul  too."  Here  a  violent  rap  at 
the  door  put  an  end  to  their  discourse,  and  produced  a  scene 
which  the  reader  will  find  in  the  next  chapter. 


286 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  VISIT  WHICH  THE  POLITE  LADY  BOOBY  AND  HER  POLITE 
FRIEND  PAID  TO  THE  PARSON. 

THE  Lady  Booby  had  no  sooner  had  an  account  from  the 
gentleman  of  his  meeting  a  wonderful  beauty  near  her 
house,  and  perceived  the  raptures  with  which  he  spoke  of  her, 
than,  immediately  concluding  it  must  be  Fanny,  she  began  to 
meditate  a  design  of  bringing  them  better  acquainted ;  and  to 
entertain  hopes  that  the  fine  clothes,  presents,  and  promises  of 
this  youth,  would  prevail  on  her  to  abandon  Joseph  :  she  there- 
fore proposed  to  her  company  a  walk  in  the  fields  before  din- 
ner, when  she  led  them  towards  Mr  Adams's  house ;  and,  as 
she  approached  it,  told  them  if  they  pleased  she  would  divert 
them  with  one  of  the  most  ridiculous  sights  they  had  ever 
seen,  which  was  an  old  foolish  parson,  who,  she  said,  laugh- 
ing, kept  a  wife  and  six  brats  on  a  salary  of  about  twenty 
pounds  a  year ;  adding,  that  there  was  not  such  another 
ragged  family  in  the  parish.  They  all  readily  agreed  to  this 
visit,  and  arrived  whilst  Mrs  Adams  was  declaiming  as  in  the 
last  chapter.  Beau  Didapper,  which  was  the  name  of  the 
young  gentleman  we  have  seen  riding  towards  Lady  Booby's, 
with  his  cane  mimicked  the  rap  of  a  London  footman  at  the 
door.  The  people  within,  namely,  Adams,  his  wife  and  three 
children,  Joseph,  Fanny,  and  the  pedlar,  were  all  thrown  into 
confusion  by  this  knock,  but  Adams  went  directly  to  the  door, 
which  being  opened,  the  Lady  Booby  and  her  company 
walked  in,  and  were  received  by  the  parson  with  about  two 
hundred  bows,  and  by  his  wife  with  as  many  curtsies ;  the  lat- 
ter telling  the  ladv  she  was  ashamed  to  be  seen  in  such  a 
pickle,  and  that  her  house  was  in  such  a  litter ;  but  that  if  she 
had  expected  such  an  honour  from  her  ladyship  she  should 
have  found  her  in  a  better  manner.  The  parson  made  no 
apologies,  though  he  was  in  his  half-cassock  and  a  flannel 
night-cap.  He  said  they  were  heartily  welcome  to  his  poor 
cottage,  and,  turning  to  Mr  Didapper,  cried  out,  "  Non  mea 
renidct  in  domo  lacunar."    The  beau  answered,  he  did  not  un- 

287 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

derstand  Welsh;  at  which  the  parson  stared  and  made  no 
reply. 

Mr  Didapper,  or  beau  Didapper,  was  a  young  gentleman 
of  about  four  foot  five  inches  in  height.  He  wore  his  own 
hair,  though  the  scarcity  of  it  might  have  given  him  sufficient 
excuse  for  a  periwig.  His  face  was  thin  and  pale ;  the  shape 
of  his  body  and  legs  none  of  the  best,  for  he  had  very  narrow 
shoulders  and  no  calf ;  and  his  gait  might  more  properly  be 
called  hopping  than  walking.  The  qualifications  of  his  mind 
were  well  adapted  to  his  person.  We  shall  handle  them  first 
negatively.  He  was  not  entirely  ignorant ;  for  he  could  talk 
a  little  French  and  sing  two  or  three  Italian  songs :  he  had 
lived  too  much  in  the  world  to  be  bashful,  and  too  much  at 
court  to  be  proud  :  he  seemed  not  much  inclined  to  avarice,  for 
he  was  profuse  in  his  expenses ;  nor  had  he  all  the  features  of 
prodigality,  for  he  never  gave  a  shilling :  no  hater  of  women, 
for  he  always  dangled  after  them;  yet  so  little  subject  to  lust, 
that  he  had,  among  those  who  knew  him  best,  the  character  of 
great  moderation  in  his  pleasures :  no  drinker  of  wine ;  nor  so 
addicted  to  passion  but  that  a  hot  word  or  two  from  an  adver- 
sary made  him  immediately  cool. 

Now,  to  give  him  only  a  dash  or  two  on  the  affirmative  side  : 
though  he  was  born  to  an  immense  fortune,  he  chose,  for  the 
pitiful  and  dirty  consideration  of  a  place  of  little  consequence, 
to  depend  entirely  on  the  will  of  a  fellow  whom  they  call  a 
great  man ;  who  treated  him  with  the  utmost  disrespect,  and 
exacted  of  him  a  plenary  obedience  to  his  commands,  which  he 
implicitly  submitted  to,  at  the  expense  of  his  conscience,  his 
honour,  and  of  his  country,  in  which  he  had  himself  so  very 
large  a  share.  And  to  finish  his  character ;  as  he  was  entirely 
well  satisfied  with  his  own  person  and  parts,  so  he  was  very 
apt  to  ridicule  and  laugh  at  any  imperfection  in  another. 
Such  was  the  little  person,  or  rather  thing,  that  hopped  after 
Lady  Booby  into  Mr  Adams's  kitchen. 

The  parson  and  his  company  retreated  from  the  chimney- 
side,  where  they  had  been  seated,  to  give  room  to  the  lady  and 
hers.  Instead  of  returning  any  of  the  curtsies  or  extraordi- 
nary civility  of  Mr  Adams,  the  lady,  turning  to  Mr  Booby, 
cried  out,  "Quelle  Bete!     Quel  Animal!"     And  presently 

288 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

after  discovering  Fanny  (for  she  did  not  need  the  circum- 
stance of  her  standing  by  Joseph  to  assure  the  identity  of  her 
person),  she  asked  the  beau  whether  he  did  not  think  her  a 
pretty  girl? — "  Begad,  madam,"  answered  he,  "  'tis  the  very 
same  I  met."  "  I  did  not  imagine,"  replied  the  lady,  "  you 
had  so  good  a  taste." — "  Because  I  never  liked  you,  I  war- 
rant," cries  the  beau.  "  Ridiculous  !  "  said  she :  "  you  know 
you  was  always  my  aversion."  "  I  would  never  mention  aver- 
sion," answered  the  beau,  "with  that  face ;  *  dear  Lady  Booby, 
wash  your  face  before  you  mention  aversion,  I  beseech  you." 
He  then  laughed,  and  turned  about  to  coquet  it  with  Fanny. 

Mrs  Adams  had  been  all  this  time  begging  and  praying  the 
ladies  to  sit  down,  a  favour  which  she  at  last  obtained.  The 
little  boy  to  whom  the  accident  had  happened,  still  keeping  his 
place  by  the  fire,  was  chid  by  his  mother  for  not  being  more 
mannerly  :  but  Lady  Booby  took  his  part,  and  commending  his 
beauty,  told  the  parson  he  was  his  very  picture.  She  then, 
seeing  a  book  in  his  hand,  asked  if  he  could  read? — "Yes," 
cried  Adams,  "  a  little  Latin,  madam :  he  is  just  got  into  Quae 
Genus." — "  A  fig  for  quere  genius !  "  answered  she ;  "  let  me 
hear  him  read  a  little  English." — "  Lege,  Dick,  lege,"  said 
Adams :  but  the  boy  made  no  answer,  till  he  saw  the  parson 
knit  his  brows,  and  then  cried,  "  I  don't  understand  you, 
father." — "  How,  boy !  "  says  Adams  ;  "  what  doth  lego  make 
in  the  imperative  mood?  Legito,  doth  it  not?  " — "  Yes,"  an- 
swered Dick. — "And  what  besides?"  says  the  father.  "Lege," 
quoth  the  son,  after  some  hesitation.  "  A  good  boy,"  says 
the  father:  "  and  now,  child,  what  is  the  English  of  lego?  " — 
To  which  the  boy,  after  long  puzzling,  answered,  he  could 
not  tell.  "  How  !  "  cries  Adams,  in  a  passion  ; — "  what,  hath 
the  water  washed  away  your  learning?  Why,  what  is  Latin 
for  the  English  verb  read?  Consider  before  you  speak."  The 
child  considered  some  time,  and  then  the  parson  cried  twice 
or  thrice,  "  Le— ,  Le— ."  Dick  answered,  "  Lego." — "  Very 
well ; — and  then  what  is  the  English,"  says  the  parson,  "  of 

*  Lest  this  should  appear  unnatural  to  some  readers,  we  think  proper 
to  acquaint  them,  that  it  is  taken  verbatim  from  very  polite  conver- 
sation. 

19  289 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

the  verb  lego?  "— "  To  read,"  cried  Dick.—"  Very  well,"  said 
the  parson ;  "  a  good  boy :  you  can  do  well  if  you  will  take 
pains. — I  assure  your  ladyship  he  is  not  much  above  eight 
years  old,  and  is  out  of  his  Propria  quae  Maribus  already. — 
Come,  Dick,  read  to  her  ladyship ;  "—which  she  again  desir- 
ing, in  order  to  give  the  beau  time  and  opportunity  with 
Fanny,  Dick  began  as  in  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  TWO  FRIENDS,  WHICH  MAY  AFFORD  AN  USE- 
FUL LESSON  TO  ALL  THOSE  PERSONS  WHO  HAPPEN  TO  TAKE 
UP  THEIR  RESIDENCE  IN   MARRIED  FAMILIES. 

LEONARD  and  Paul  were  two  friends." — "  Pronounce  it 
/  Lennard,  child,"  cried  the  parson.—"  Pray,  Mr  Adams," 
says  Lady  Booby,  "  let  your  son  read  without  interruption." 
Dick  then  proceeded.  "  Lennard  and  Paul  were  two  friends, 
who,  having  been  educated  together  at  the  same  school,  com- 
menced a  friendship  which  they  preserved  a  long  time  for  each 
other.  It  was  so  deeply  fixed  in  both  their  minds,  that  a  long 
absence,  during  which  they  had  maintained  no  correspondence, 
did  not  eradicate  nor  lessen  it :  but  it  revived  in  all  its  force 
at  their  first  meeting,  which  was  not  till  after  fifteen  years' 
absence,  most  of  which  time  Lennard  had  spent  in  the  East 

Indi-es." — "  Pronounce   it   short,    Indies,"    says   Adams. 

"  Pray,  sir,  be  quiet,"  says  the  lady. — The  boy  repeated, — 
"  in  the  East  Indies,  whilst  Paul  had  served  his  king  and 
country  in  the  army.  In  which  different  services  they  had 
found  such  different  success,  that  Lennard  was  now  married, 
and  retired  with  a  fortune  of  thirty  thousand  pounds;  and 
Paul  was  arrived  to  the  degree  of  a  lieutenant  of  foot;  and 
was  not  worth  a  single  shilling. 

"  The  regiment  in  which  Paul  was  stationed  happened  to  be 
ordered  into  quarters  within  a  small  distance  from  the  estate 
which  Lennard  had  purchased,  and  where  he  was  settled. 
This  latter,  who  was  now  become  a  country  gentleman,  and 
a  justice  of  peace,  came  to  attend  the  quarter  sessions  in  the 
town  where  his  old  friend  was  quartered,  soon  after  his  arrival. 

290 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

Some  affair  in  which  a  soldier  was  concerned  occasioned 
Paul  to  attend  the  justices.  Manhood,  and  time,  and  the 
change  of  climate,  had  so  much  altered  Lennard,  that  Paul 
did  not  immediately  recollect  the  features  of  his  old  acquain- 
tance :  but  it  was  otherwise  with  Lennard.  He  knew  Paul 
the  moment  he  saw  him ;  nor  could  he  contain  himself  from 
quitting  the  bench,  and  running  hastily  to  embrace  him.  Paul 
stood  first  a  little  surprized ;  but  had  soon  sufficient  informa- 
tion from  his  friend,  whom  he  no  sooner  remembered  than 
he  returned  his  embrace  with  a  passion  which  made  many 
of  the  spectators  laugh,  and  gave  to  some  few  a  much  higher 
and  more  agreeable  sensation. 

"  Not  to  detain  the  reader  with  minute  circumstances,  Len- 
nard insisted  on  his  friend's  returning  with  him  to  his  house 
that  evening ;  which  request  was  complied  with,  and  leave  for 
a  month's  absence  for  Paul  obtained  of  the  commanding 
officer. 

"  If  it  was  possible  for  any  circumstance  to  give  any  addi- 
tion to  the  happiness  which  Paul  proposed  in  this  visit,  he 
received  that  additional  pleasure  by  finding,  on  his  arrival 
at  his  friend's  house,  that  his  lady  was  an  old  acquaintance 
which  he  had  formerly  contracted  at  his  quarters,  and  who 
had  always  appeared  to  be  of  a  most  agreeable  temper;  a 
character  she  had  ever  maintained  among  her  intimates,  being 
of  that  number,  every  individual  of  which  is  called  quite 
the  best  sort  of  woman  in  the  world. 

"  But,  good  as  this  lady  was,  she  was  still  a  woman ;  that 
is  to  say,  an  angel,  and  not  an  angel." — "  You  must  mistake, 
child,"  cries  the  parson,  "  for  you  read  nonsense." — "  It  is  so 
in  the  book,"  answered  the  son.  Mr  Adams  was  then  silenced 
by  authority,  and  Dick  proceeded. — "  For  though  her  person 
was  of  that  kind  to  which  men  attribute  the  name  of  angel, 
yet  in  her  mind  she  was  perfectly  woman.  Of  which  a  great 
degree  of  obstinacy  gave  the  most  remarkable  and  perhaps 
most  pernicious  instance. 

"  A  day  or  two  passed  after  Paul's  arrival  before  any  in- 
stances of  this  appeared;  but  it  was  impossible  to  conceal  it 
long.  Both  she  and  her  husband  soon  lost  all  apprehension 
from  their  friend's  presence,  and  fell  to  their  disputes  with 
as  much  vigour  as  ever.     These  were  still  pursued  with  the 

291 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

utmost  ardour  and  eagerness,  however  trifling  the  causes  were 
whence  they  first  arose.  Nay,  however  incredible  it  may  seem, 
the  little  consequence  of  the  matter  in  debate  was  frequently 
given  as  a  reason  for  the  fierceness  of  the  contention,  as 
thus :  '  If  you  loved  me,  sure  you  would  never  dispute  with 
me  such  a  trifle  as  this.'  The  answer  to  which  is  very  ob- 
vious; for  the  argument  would  hold  equally  on  both  sides, 
and  was  constantly  retorted  with  some  addition,  as — '  I  am 
sure  I  have  much  more  reason  to  say  so,  who  am  in  the  right.' 
During  all  these  disputes,  Paul  always  kept  strict  silence,  and 
preserved  an  even  countenance,  without  showing  the  least 
visible  inclination  to  either  party.  One  day,  however,  when 
madam  had  left  the  room  in  a  violent  fury,  Lennard  could  not 
refrain  from  referring  his  cause  to  his  friend.  Was  ever  any- 
thing so  unreasonable,  says  he,  as  this  woman?  What  shall 
I  do  with  her  ?  I  doat  on  her  to  distraction ;  nor  have  I  any 
cause  to  complain  of,  more  than  this  obstinacy  in  her  temper ; 
whatever  she  asserts,  she  will  maintain  against  all  the  reason 
and  conviction  in  the  world.  Pray  give  me  your  advice. — 
First,  says  Paul,  I  will  give  my  opinion,  which  is,  flatly,  that 
you  are  in  the  wrong ;  for,  supposing  she  is  in  the  wrong,  was 
the  subject  of  your  contention  any  ways  material?  What 
signified  it  whether  you  was  married  in  a  red  or  a  yellow 
waistcoat  ?  for  that  was  your  dispute.  Now,  suppose  she  was 
mistaken ;  as  you  love  her  you  say  so  tenderly,  and  I  believe 
she  deserves  it,  would  it  not  have  been  wiser  to  have  yielded, 
though  you  certainly  knew  yourself  in  the  right,  than  to  give 
either  her  or  yourself  any  uneasiness?  For  my  own  part,  if 
ever  I  marry,I  am  resolved  to  enter  into  an  agreement  with  my 
wife,  that  in  all  disputes  (especially  about  trifles)  that  party 
who  is  most  convinced  they  are  right  shall  always  surrender 
the  victory ;  by  which  means  we  shall  both  be  forward  to  give 
up  the  cause.  I  own,  said  Lennard,  my  dear  friend,  shaking 
him  by  the  hand,  there  is  great  truth  and  reason  in  what 
you  say;  and  I  will  for  the  future  endeavour  to  follow  your 
advice.  They  soon  after  broke  up  the  conversation,  and  Len- 
nard, going  to  his  wife,  asked  her  pardon,  and  told  her  his 
friend  had  convinced  him  he  had  been  in  the  wrong.  She 
immediately  began  a  vast  encomium  on  Paul,  in  which  he 
seconded  her,  and  both  agreed  he  was  the  worthiest  and  wisest 

292 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

man  upon  earth.  When  next  they  met,  which  was  at  supper, 
though  she  had  promised  not  to  mention  what  her  husband 
told  her,  she  could  not  forbear  casting  the  kindest  and  most 
affectionate  looks  on  Paul,  and  asked  him,  with  the  sweetest 
voice,  whether  she  should  help  him  to  some  potted  woodcock  ? 
Potted  partridge,  my  dear,  you  mean,  says  the  husband.  My 
dear,  says  she,  I  ask  your  friend  if  he  will  eat  any  potted 
woodcock ;  and  I  am  sure  I  must  know,  who  potted  it.  I 
think  I  should  know  too,  who  shot  them,  replied  the  husband, 
and  I  am  convinced  that  I  have  not  seen  a  woodcock  this  year ; 
however,  though  I  know  I  am  in  the  right,  I  submit,  and  the 
potted  partridge  is  potted  woodcock  if  you  desire  to  have 
it  so.  It  is  equal  to  me,  says  she,  whether  it  is  one  or  the 
other ;  but  you  would  persuade  one  out  of  one's  senses ;  to  be 
sure,  you  are  always  in  the  right  in  your  own  opinion;  but 
your  friend,  I  believe,  knows  which  he  is  eating.  Paul  an- 
swered nothing,  and  the  dispute  continued,  as  usual,  the 
greatest  part  of  the  evening.  The  next  morning  the  lady, 
accidentally  meeting  Paul,  and  being  convinced  he  was  her 
friend,  and  of  her  side,  accosted  him  thus : — I  am  certain,  sir, 
you  have  long  since  wondered  at  the  unreasonableness  of  my 
husband.  He  is  indeed,  in  other  respects,  a  good  sort  of 
man,  but  so  positive,  that  no  woman  but  one  of  my  complying 
temper  could  possibly  live  with  him.  Why,  last  night,  now, 
was  ever  any  creature  so  unreasonable?  I  am  certain  you 
must  condemn  him.  Pray,  answer  me,  was  he  not  in  the 
wrong?  Paul,  after  a  short  silence,  spoke  as  follows:  I  am 
sorry,  madam,  that,  as  good  manners  obliges  me  to  answer 
against  my  will,  so  an  adherence  to  truth  forces  me  to  declare 
myself  of  a  different  opinion.  To  be  plain  and  honest,  you 
was  entirely  in  the  wrong;  the  cause  I  own  not  worth  dis- 
puting, but  the  bird  was  undoubtedly  a  partridge.  O  sir! 
replied  the  lady,  I  cannot  possibly  help  your  taste.  Madam, 
returned  Paul,  that  is  very  little  material;  for,  had  it  been 
otherwise,  a  husband  might  have  expected  submission. — In- 
deed !  sir,  says  she,  I  assure  you ! — Yes,  madam,  cried  he,  he 
might,  from  a  person  of  your  excellent  understanding;  and 
pardon  me  for  saying,  such  a  condescension  would  have  shown 
a  superiority  of  sense  even  to  your  husband  himself. — But, 
dear  sir,  said  she,  why  should  I  submit  when  I  am  in  the 

293 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

right? — For  that  very  reason,  answered  he;  it  would  be  the 
greatest  instance  of  affection  imaginable;  for  can  anything 
be  a  greater  object  of  our  compassion  than  a  person  we  love 
in  the  wrong?  Aye,  but  I  should  endeavour,  said  she,  to 
set  him  right.  Pardon  me,  madam,  answered  Paul:  I  will 
apply  to  your  own  experience  if  you  ever  found  your  argu- 
ments had  that  effect.  The  more  our  judgments  err,  the 
less  we  are  willing  to  own  it :  for  my  own  part,  I  have 
always  observed  the  persons  who  maintain  the  worst  side  in 
any  contest  are  the  warmest.  Why,  says  she,  I  must  confess 
there  is  truth  in  what  you  say,  and  I  will  endeavour  to  prac- 
tise it.  The  husband  then  coming  in,  Paul  departed.  And 
Lennard,  approaching  his  wife  with  the  air  of  good  humour, 
told  her  he  was  sorry  for  their  foolish  dispute  the  last  night ; 
but  he  was  now  convinced  of  his  error.  She  answered, 
smiling,  she  believed  she  owed  his  condescension  to  his  com- 
placence; that  she  was  ashamed  to  think  a  word  had  passed 
on  so  silly  an  occasion,  especially  as  she  was  satisfied  she  had 
been  mistaken.  A  little  contention-  followed,  but  with  the 
utmost  good-will  to  each  other,  and  was  concluded  by  her  as- 
serting that  Paul  had  thoroughly  convinced  her  she  had  been 
in  the  wrong.  Upon  which  they  both  united  in  the  praises 
of  their  common  friend. 

"  Paul  now  passed  his  time  with  great  satisfaction,  these 
disputes  being  much  less  frequent,  as  well  as  shorter  than 
usual ;  but  the  devil,  or  some  unlucky  accident  in  which  per- 
haps the  devil  had  no  hand,  shortly  put  an  end  to  his  hap- 
piness. He  was  now  eternally  the  private  referee  of  every 
difference ;  in  which,  after  having  perfectly,  as  he  thought, 
established  the  doctrine  of  submission,  he  never  scrupled  to 
assure  both  privately  that  they  were  in  the  right  in  every 
argument,  as  before  he  had  followed  the  contrary  method. 
One  day  a  violent  litigation  happened  in  his  absence,  and 
both  parties  agreed  to  refer  it  to  his  decision.  The  husband 
professing  himself  sure  the  decision  would  be  in  his  favour; 
the  wife  answered,  he  might  be  mistaken;  for  she  believed  his 
friend  was  convinced  how  seldom  she  was  to  blame;  and 
that  if  he  knew  all — The  husband  replied,  My  dear,  I  have 
no  desire  of  any  retrospect ;  but  I  believe,  if  you  knew  all 
too,  you  would  not  imagine  my  friend  so  entirely  on  your 

294 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

side.  Nay,  says  she,  since  you  provoke  me,  I  will  mention  one 
instance.  You  may  remember  our  dispute  about  sending 
Jackey  to  school  in  cold  weather,  which  point  I  gave  up  to 
you  from  mere  compassion,  knowing  myself  to  be  in  the 
right ;  and  Paul  himself  told  me  afterwards  he  thought  me 
so.  My  dear,  replied  the  husband,  I  will  not  scruple  your 
veracity;  but  I  assure  you  solemnly,  on  my  applying  to  him, 
he  gave  it  absolutely  on  my  side,  and  said  he  would  have 
acted  in  the  same  manner.  They  then  proceeded  to  produce 
numberless  other  instances,  in  all  which  Paul  had,  on  vows 
of  secresy,  given  his  opinion  on  both  sides.  In  the  conclu- 
sion, both  believing  each  other,  they  fell  severely  on  the 
treachery  of  Paul,  and  agreed  that  he  had  been  the  occasion 
of  almost  every  dispute  which  had  fallen  out  between  them. 
They  then  became  extremely  loving,  and  so  full  of  conde- 
scension on  both  sides,  that  they  vied  with  each  other  in  cen- 
suring their  own  conduct,  and  jointly  vented  their  indignation 
on  Paul,  whom  the  wife,  fearing  a  bloody  consequence,  ear- 
nestly entreated  her  husband  to  suffer  quietly  to  depart  the 
next  day,  which  was  the  time  fixed  for  his  return  to  quarters, 
and  then  drop  his  acquaintance. 

"  However  ungenerous  this  behaviour  in  Lennard  may  be 
esteemed,  his  wife  obtained  a  promise  from  him  (though  with 
difficulty)  to  follow  her  advice;  but  they  both  expressed  such 
unusual  coldness  that  day  to  Paul,  that  he,  who  was  quick 
of  apprehension,  taking  Lennard  aside,  pressed  him  so  home, 
that  he  at  last  discovered  the  secret.  Paul  acknowledged  the 
truth,  but  told  him  the  design  with  which  he  had  done  it. — 
To  which  the  other  answered,  he  would  have  acted  more 
friendly  to  have  let  him  into  the  whole  design ;  for  that  he 
might  have  assured  himself  of  his  secresy.  Paul  replied,  with 
some  indignation,  he  had  given  him  a  sufficient  proof  how  ca- 
pable he  was  of  concealing  a  secret  from  his  wife.  Lennard 
returned  with  some  warmth — he  had  more  reason  to  upbraid 
him,  for  that  he  had  caused  most  of  the  quarrels  between  them 
by  his  strange  conduct,  and  might  (if  they  had  not  discovered 
the  affair  to  each  other)  have  been  the  occasion  of  their  sepa- 
ration. Paul  then  said " — But  something  now  happened 
which  put  a  stop  to  Dick's  reading,  and  of  which  we  shall 
treat  in  the  next  chapter. 

295 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 
CHAPTER  XL 

IN  WHICH  THE  HISTORY  IS  CONTINUED. 

JOSEPH  ANDREWS  had  borne  with  great  uneasiness  the 
impertinence  of  Beau  Didapper  to  Fanny,  who  had  been 
talking  pretty  freely  to  her,  and  offering  her  settlements ; 
but  the  respect  to  the  company  had  restrained  him  from  inter- 
ferine  whilst  the  beau  confined  himself  to  the  use  of  his  tongue 
only;  but  the  said  beau,  watching  an  opportunity  whilst  the 
ladies'  eyes  were  disposed  another  way,  offered  a  rudeness  to 
her  with  his  hands;  which  Joseph  no  sooner  perceived  than 
he  presented  him  with  so  sound  a  box  on  the  ear,  that  it 
conveyed  him  several  paces  from  where  he  stood.  The  ladies 
immediately  screamed  out,  rose  from  their  chairs;  and  the 
beau,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  himself,  drew  his  hanger ;  which 
Adams  observing,  snatched  up  the  lid  of  a  pot  in  his  left  hand, 
and,  covering  himself  with  it  as  with  a  shield,  without  any 
weapon  of  offence  in  his  other  hand,  stept  in  before  Joseph, 
and  exposed  himself  to  the  enraged  beau,  who  threatened  such 
perdition  and  destruction,  that  it  frightened  the  women,  who 
were  all  got  in  a  huddle  together,  out  of  their  wits,  even  to 
hear  his  denunciations  of  vengeance.  Joseph  was  of  a  dif- 
ferent complexion,  and  begged  Adams  to  let  his  rival  come 
on ;  for  he  had  a  good  cudgel  in  his  hand,  and  did  not  fear 
him.  Fanny  now  fainted  into  Mrs  Adams's  arms,  and  the 
whole  room  was  in  confusion,  when  Mr  Booby,  passing  by 
Adams,  who  lay  snug  under  the  pot-lid,  came  up  to  Di- 
dapper, and  insisted  on  his  sheathing  his  hanger,  promising 
he  should  have  satisfaction ;  which  Joseph  declared  he  would 
give  him,  and  fight  him  at  any  weapon  whatever.  The  beau 
now  sheathed  his  hanger,  and  taking  out  a  pocket-glass,  and 
vowing  vengeance  all  the  time,  re-adjusted  his  hair;  the  par- 
son deposited  his  shield ;  and  Joseph,  running  to  Fanny,  soon 
brought  her  back  to  life.  Lady  Booby  chid  Joseph  for  his 
insult  on  Didapper ;  but  he  answered,  he  would  have  attacked 
an  army  in  the  same  cause.  "What  cause?"  said  the  lady. 
"Madam,"  answered  Joseph,   "he  was  rude  to  that  young 

296 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

woman." — "What,"  says  the  lady,  "I  suppose  he  would  have 
kissed  the  wench ;  and  is  a  gentleman  to  be  struck  for  such 
an  offer?  I  must  tell  you,  Joseph,  these  airs  do  not  become 
you."—"  Madam,"  said  Mr  Booby,  "  I  saw  the  whole  affair, 
and  I  do  not  commend  my  brother ;  for  I  cannot  perceive  why 
he  should  take  upon  him  to  be  this  girl's  champion." — "  I  can 
commend  him,"  says  Adams :  "  he  is  a  brave  lad ;  and  it  be- 
comes any  man  to  be  the  champion  of  the  innocent;  and  he 
must  be  the  basest  coward  who  would  not  vindicate  a  woman 
with  whom  he  is  on  the  brink  of  marriage." — "  Sir,"  says  Mr 
Booby,  "  my  brother  is  not  a  proper  match  for  such  a  young 
woman  as  this." — "  No,"  says  Lady  Booby ;  "  nor  do  you,  Mr. 
Adams,  act  in  your  proper  character  by  encouraging  any  such 
doings ;  and  I  am  very  much  surprised  you  should  concern 
yourself  in  it.  I  think  your  wife  and  family  your  properer 
care." — "  Indeed,  madam,  your  ladyship  says  very  true,"  an- 
swered Mrs  Adams ;  "  he  talks  a  pack  of  nonsense,  that  the 
whole  parish  are  his  children.  I  am  sure  I  don't  understand 
what  he  means  by  it;  it  would  make  some  women  suspect  he 
had  gone  astray,  but  I  acquit  him  of  that ;  I  can  read  scripture 
as  well  as  he,  and  I  never  found  that  the  parson  was  obliged 
to  provide  for  other  folks'  children ;  and  besides,  he  is  but 
a  poor  curate,  and  hath  little  enough,  as  your  ladyship  knows, 
for  me  and  mine." — "  You  say  very  well,  Mrs  Adams,"  quoth 
the  Lady  Booby,  who  had  not  spoke  a  word  to  her  before ; 
"you  seem  to  be  a  very  sensible  woman ;  and  I  assure  you, 
your  husband  is  acting  a  very  foolish  part,  and  opposing  his 
own  interest,  seeing  my  nephew  is  violently  set  against  this 
match ;  and  indeed  I  can't  blame  him ;  it  is  by  no  means  one 
suitable  to  our  family."  In  this  manner  the  lady  proceeded 
with  Mrs  Adams,  whilst  the  beau  hopped  about  the  room, 
shaking  his  head,  partly  from  pain  and  partly  from  anger ; 
and  Pamela  was  chicling  Fanny  for  her  assurance  in  aiming 
at  such  a  match  as  her  brother.  Poor  Fanny  answered  only 
with  her  tears,  which  had  long  since  begun  to  wet  her  hand- 
kerchief;  which  Joseph  perceiving,  took  her  by  the  arm,  and 
wrapping  it  in  his  carried  her  off,  swearing  he  would  own  no 
relation  to  any  one  who  was  an  enemy  to  her  he  loved  more 
than  all  the  world.  He  went  out  with  Fanny  under  his  left 
arm,  brandishing  a  cudgel  in  his  right,  and  neither  Mr  Booby 

297 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

nor  the  beau  thought  proper  to  oppose  hm.  Lady  Booby  and 
her  company  made  a  very  short  stay  behind  him;  for  the 
lady's  bell  now  summoned  them  to  dress;  for  which  they 
had  just  time  before  dinner. 

Adams  seemed  now  very  much  dejected,  which  his  wife 
perceiving,  began  to  apply  some  matrimonial  balsam.  She 
told  him  he  had  reason  to  be  concerned,  for  that  he  had  prob- 
ably ruined  his  family  with  his  tricks;  but  perhaps  he  was 
grieved  for  the  loss  of  his  two  children,  Joseph  and  Fanny. 
His  eldest  daughter  went  on :  "  Indeed,  father,  it  is  very  hard 
to  bring  strangers  here  to  eat  your  children's  bread  out  of 
their  mouths.  You  have  kept  them  ever  since  they  came 
home;  and,  for  anything  I  see  to  the  contrary,  may  keep 
them  a  month  longer ;  are  you  obliged  to  give  her  meat,  tho'f 
she  was  never  so  handsome?  But  I  don't  see  she  is  so  much 
handsomer  than  other  people.  If  people  were  to  be  kept  for 
their  beauty,  she  would  scarce  fare  better  than  her  neigh- 
bours, I  believe.  As  for  Mr  Joseph,  I  have  nothing  to  say : 
he  is  a  young  man  of  honest  principles,  and  will  pay  some 
time  or  other  for  what  he  hath ;  but  for  the  girl, — why  doth 
she  not  return  to  her  place  she  ran  away  from  ?  I  would  not 
give  such  a  vagabond  slut  a  halfpenny  though  I  had  a 
million  of  money;  no,  though  she  was  starving."  "Indeed 
but  I  would,"  cries  little  Dick;  "and,  father,  rather  than 
poor  Fanny  shall  be  starved,  I  will  give  her  all  this  bread 
and  cheese" — (offering  what  he  held  in  his  hand).  Adams 
smiled  on  the  boy,  and  told  him  he  rejoiced  to  see  he  was  a 
Christian;  and  that,  if  he  had  a  halfpenny  in  his  pocket,  he 
would  have  given  it  him;  telling  him  it  was  his  duty  to 
look  upon  all  his  neighbours  as  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
love  them  accordingly.  "Yes,  papa,"  says  he,  "I  love  her 
better  than  my  sisters,  for  she  is  handsomer  than  any  of 
them."  '  Is  she  so,  saucebox  ?  "  says  the  sister,  giving  him  a 
box  on  the  ear;  which  the  father  would  probably  have  re- 
sented, had  not  Joseph,  Fanny,  and  the  pedlar  at  that  instant 
returned  together.  Adams  bid  his  wife  prepare  some  food 
for  their  dinner;  she  said,  truly  she  could  not,  she  had 
something  else  to  do.  Adams  rebuked  her  for  disputing 
his  commands,  and  quoted  many  texts  of  scripture  to  prove 
that  the  husband   is   the  head  of  the  wife,   and   she  is  to 

298 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

submit  and  obey.  The  wife  answered,  it  was  blasphemy  to 
talk  scripture  out  of  church;  that  such  things  were  very 
proper  to  be  said  in  the  pulpit,  but  that  it  was  profane  to 
talk  them  in  common  discourse.  Joseph  told  Mr  Adams 
he  was  not  come  with  any  design  to  give  him  or  Mrs 
Adams  any  trouble;  but  to  desire  the  favour  of  all  their 
company  to  the  George  (an  alehouse  in  the  parish),  where 
he  had  bespoke  a  piece  of  bacon  and  greens  for  their  dinner. 
Mrs  Adams,  who  was  a  very  good  sort  of  woman,  only 
rather  too  strict  in  economics,  readily  accepted  this  invitation, 
as  did  the  parson  himself  by  her  example ;  and  away  they 
all  walked  together,  not  omitting  little  Dick,  to  whom  Joseph 
gave  a  shilling  when  he  heard  of  his  intended  liberality  to 
Fanny. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHERE    THE     GOOD-NATURED    READER     WILL     SEE     SOMETHING 
WHICH  WILL  GIVE  HIM  NO  GREAT  PLEASURE. 

THE  pedlar  had  been  very  inquisitive  from  the  time  he 
had  first  heard  that  the  great  house  in  this  parish  be- 
longed to  the  Lady  Booby,  and  had  learnt  that  she  was  the 
widow  of  Sir  Thomas,  and  that  Sir  Thomas  had  bought 
Fanny,  at  about  the  age  of  three  or  four  years,  of  a  travelling 
woman ;  and,  now  their  homely  but  hearty  meal  was  ended, 
he  told  Fanny  he  believed  he  could  acquaint  her  with  her  pa- 
rents. The  whole  company,  especially  she  herself,  started  at 
this  offer  of  the  pedlar's.  He  then  proceeded  thus,  while  they 
all  lent  their  strictest  attention: — "Though  I  am  now  con- 
tented with  this  humble  way  of  getting  my  livelihood,  I  was 
formerly  a  gentleman ;  for  so  all  those  of  my  profession  are 
called.  In  a  word,  I  was  a  drummer  in  an  Irish  regiment  of 
foot.  Whilst  I  was  in  this  honourable  station  I  attended  an 
officer  of  our  regiment  into  England  a  recruiting.  In  our 
march  from  Bristol  to  Froome  (for  since  the  decay  of  the 
woollen  trade  the  clothing  towns  have  furnished  the  army 
with  a  great  number  of  recruits)  we  overtook  on  the  road  a 

299 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

woman,  who  seemed  to  be  about  thirty  years  old  or  there- 
abouts, not  very  handsome,  but  well  enough  for  a  soldier. 
As  we  came  up  to  her,  she  mended  her  pace,  and,  falling 
into  discourse  with  our  ladies  (for  every  man  of  the  party, 
namely,  a  serjeant,  two  private  men,  and  a  drum,  were  pro- 
vided with  their  woman  except  myself),  she  continued  to 
travel  on  with  us.  I,  perceiving  she  must  fall  to  my  lot, 
advanced  presently  to  her,  made  love  to  her  in  our  military 
way,  and  quickly  succeeded  to  my  wishes.  We  struck  a  bar- 
gain within  a  mile,  and  lived  together  as  man  and  wife  to 
her  dying  day."  "I  suppose,"  says  Adams,  interrupting  him, 
"you  were  married  with  a  licence;  for  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  contrive  to  have  the  banns  published  while  you  were 
marching  from  place  to  place."  "No,  sir,"  said  the  pedlar, 
"we  took  a  licence  to  go  to  bed  together  without  any  banns." 
"  Aye !  aye !  "  said  the  parson ;  "  ex  necessitate,  a  licence  may 
be  allowable  enough ;  but  surely,  surely,  the  other  is  the 
more  regular  and  eligible  way."  The  pedlar  proceeded  thus : 
"  she  returned  with  me  to  our  regiment,  and  removed  with  us 
from  quarters  to  quarters,  till  at  last,  whilst  we  lay  at  Gallo- 
way, she  fell  ill  of  a  fever  and  died.  When  she  was  on  her 
death-bed  she  called  me  to  her,  and,  crying  bitterly,  declared 
she  could  not  depart  this  world  without  discovering  a  secret 
to  me,  which,  she  said,  was  the  only  sin  which  sat  heavy  on 
her  heart.  She  said  she  had  formerly  travelled  in  a  company 
of  gipsies,  who  had  made  a  practice  of  stealing  away  chil- 
dren ;  that  for  her  own  part,  she  had  been  only  once  guilty 
of  the  crime ;  which,  she  said,  she  lamented  more  than  all 
the  rest  of  her  sins,  since  probably  it  might  have  occasioned 
the  death  of  the  parents;  for,  added  she,  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  describe  the  beauty  of  the  young  creature,  which 
was  about  a  year  and  a  half  old  when  I  kidnapped  it.  We 
kept  her  (for  she  was  a  girl)  above  two  years  in  our  company, 
when  I  sold  her  myself,  for  three  guineas,  to  Sir  Thomas 
Booby,  in  Somersetshire.  Now,  you  know  whether  there 
are  any  more  of  that  name  in  this  county."  "  Yes,"  says 
Adams,  "there  are  several  Boobys  who  are  squires,  but  I  be- 
lieve no  baronet  now  alive;  besides,  it  answers  so  exactly  in 
every  point,  there  is  no  room  for  doubt ;  but  you  have  forgot 

300 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

to  tell  us  the  parents  from  whom  the  child  was  stolen." 
"The  name,"  answered  the  pedlar,  "was  Andrews.  They 
lived  about  thirty  miles  from  the  squire ;  and  she  told  me 
that  I  might  be  sure  to  find  them  out  by  one  circumstance ; 
for  that  they  had  a  daughter  of  a  very  strange  name,  Pamela, 
or  Pamala;  some  pronounced  it  one  way,  and  some  the 
other."  Fanny,  who  had  changed  colour  at  the  first  mention 
of  the  name,  now  fainted  away ;  Joseph  turned  pale,  and 
poor  Dicky  began  to  roar;  the  parson  fell  on  his  knees,  and 
ejaculated  many  thanksgivings  that  this  discovery  had  been 
made  before  the  dreadful  sin  of  incest  was  committed ;  and 
the  pedlar  was  struck  with  amazement,  not  being  able  to  ac- 
count for  all  this  confusion  ;  the  cause  of  which  was  presently 
opened  by  the  parson's  daughter,  who  was  the  only  uncon- 
cerned person  (for  the  mother  was  chafing  Fanny's  temples, 
and  taking  the  utmost  care  of  her)  :  and,  indeed,  Fanny  was 
the  only  creature  whom  the  daughter  would  not  have  pitied 
in  her  situation ;  wherein,  though  we  compassionate  her  our- 
selves, we  shall  leave  her  for  a  little  while,  and  pay  a  short 
visit  to  Lady  Booby. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  HISTORY,  RETURNING  TO  THE  LADY  BOOBY,  GIVES  SOME 
ACCOUNT  OF  THE  TERRIBLE  CONFLICT  IN  HER  BREAST  BE- 
TWEEN LOVE  AND  PRIDE;  WITH  WHAT  HAPPENED  ON  THE 
PRESENT  DISCOVERY. 

THE  lady  sat  down  with  her  company  to  dinner,  but  ate 
nothing.  As  soon  as  her  cloth  was  removed  she  whis- 
pered Pamela  that  she  was  taken  a  little  ill,  and  desired  her  to 
entertain  her  husband  and  beau  Didapper.  She  then  went  up 
into  her  chamber,  sent  for  Slipslop,  threw  herself  on  the  bed 
in  the  agonies  of  love,  rage,  and  despair;  nor  could  she  con- 
ceal these  boiling  passions  longer  without  bursting.  Slip- 
slop now  approached  her  bed,  and  asked  how  her  ladyship 
did;  but,  instead  of  revealing  her  disorder,  as  she  intended, 
she    entered    into    a    long    encomium    on    the    beauty    and 

301 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

virtues  of  Joseph  Andrews ;  ending,  at  last,  with  express- 
ing her  concern  that  so  much  tenderness  should  be  thrown 
away  on  so  despicable  an  object  as  Fanny.  Slipslop, 
well  knowing  how  to  humour  her  mistress's  frensy,  pro- 
ceeded to  repeat,  with  exaggeration,  if  possible,  all  her  mis- 
tress had  said,  and  concluded  with  a  wish  that  Joseph  had 
been  a  gentleman,  and  that  she  could  see  her  lady  in  the  arms 
of  such  a  husband.  The  lady  then  started  from  the  bed,  and, 
taking  a  turn  or  two  across  the  room,  cried  out,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  "Sure  he  would  make  any  woman  happy !"  "Your  lady- 
ship," says  she,  "  would  be  the  happiest  woman  in  the  world 
with  him.  A  fig  for  custom  and  nonsense!  What  'vails 
what  people  say?  Shall  I  be  afraid  of  eating  sweetmeats  be- 
cause people  may  say  I  have  a  sweet  tooth  ?  If  I  had  a  mind 
to  marry  a  man,  all  the  world  should  not  hinder  me.  Your 
ladyship  hath  no  parents  to  tutelar  your  infections ;  besides,  he 
is  of  your  ladyship's  family  now,  and  as  good  a  gentleman  as 
any  in  the  country;  and  why  should  not  a  woman  follow  her 
mind  as  well  as  man?  Why  should  not  your  ladyship  marry 
the  brother  as  well  as  your  nephew  the  sister.  I  am  sure, 
if  it  was  a  fragrant  crime,  I  would  not  persuade  your  lady- 
ship to  it." — "But,  dear  Slipslop,"  answered  the  lady,  "if  I 
could  prevail  on  myself  to  commit  such  a  weakness,  there  is 
that  cursed  Fanny  in  the  way,  whom  the  idiot — O  how  I  hate 
and  despise  him !" — "She  !  a  little  ugly  minx,"  cries  Slipslop ; 
"leave  her  to  me.  I  suppose  your  ladyship  hath  heard  of  Jo- 
seph's fitting  with  one  of  Mr  Didapper's  servants  about  her; 
and  his  master  hath  ordered  them  to  carry  her  away  by  force 
this  evening.  I'll  take  care  they  shall  not  want  assistance. 
I  was  talking  with  this  gentleman,  who  was  below,  just  when 
your  ladyship  sent  for  me." — "Go  back,"  says  the  Lady  Booby, 
"this  instant,  for  I  expect  Mr  Didapper  will  soon  be  going. 
Do  all  you  can;  for  I  am  resolved  this  wench  shall  not  be  in 
our  family :  I  will  endeavour  to  return  to  the  company ;  but 
let  me  know  as  soon  as  she  is  carried  off."  Slipslop  went 
away;  and  her  mistress  began  to  arraign  her  own  conduct  in 
the  following  manner : 

"What  am   I   doing?     How  do  I   suffer  this  passion   to 
creep   imperceptibly   upon  me!     How  many   days  are  past 

302 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

since  I  could  have  submitted  to  ask  myself  the  question? — 
Marry  a  footman !  Distraction  !  Can  I  afterwards  bear  the 
eyes  of  my  acquaintance?  But  I  can  retire  from  them;  re- 
tire with  one  in  whom  I  propose  more  happiness  than  the 
world  without  him  can  give  me !  Retire — to  feed  continu- 
ally on  beauties  which  my  inflamed  imagination  sickens  with 
eagerly  gazing  on ;  to  satisfy  every  appetite,  every  desire, 
with  their  utmost  wish.  Ha !  and  do  I  doat  thus  on  a  foot- 
man? I  despise,  I  detest  my  passion. — Yet  why?  Is  he  not 
generous,  gentle,  kind  ? — Kind  !  to  whom  ?  to  the  meanest 
wretch,  a  creature  below  my  consideration.  Doth  he  not — 
yes,  he  doth  prefer  her.  Curse  his  beauties,  and  the  little  low 
heart  that  possesses  them ;  which  can  basely  descend  to  this 
despicable  wench,  and  be  ungratefully  deaf  to  all  the  honours 
I  do  him.  And  can  I  then  love  this  monster?  No,  I  will 
tear  his  image  from  my  bosom,  tread  on  him,  spurn  him.  I 
will  have  those  pitiful  charms,  which  now  I  despise,  mangled 
in  my  sight ;  for  I  will  not  suffer  the  little  jade  I  hate  to  riot 
in  the  beauties  I  contemn.  No ;  though  I  despise  him  myself, 
though  I  would  spurn  him  from  my  feet,  was  he  to  languish 
at  them,  no  other  should  taste  the  happiness  I  scorn.  Why 
do  I  say  happiness  ?  To  me  it  would  be  misery.  To  sacrifice 
my  reputation,  my  character,  my  rank  in  life,  to  the  indul- 
gence of  a  mean  and  vile  appetite  !  How  I  detest  the  thought ! 
How  much  more  exquisite  is  the  pleasure  resulting  from  the 
reflection  of  virtue  and  prudence  than  the  faint  relish  of  what 
flows  from  vice  and  folly !  Whither  did  I  suffer  this  improper, 
this  mad  passion  to  hurry  me,  only  by  neglecting  to  summon 
the  aids  of  reason  to  my  assistance  ?  Reason,  which  hath  now 
set  before  me  my  desires  in  their  proper  colours,  and  imme- 
diately helped  me  to  expel  them.  Yes,  I  thank  Heaven  and 
my  pride,  I  have  now  perfectly  conquered  this  unworthy  pas- 
sion ;  and  if  there  was  no  obstacle  in  its  way,  my  pride  would 
disdain  any  pleasures  which  could  be  the  consequence  of  so 
base,  so  mean,  so  vulgar — "  Slipslop  returned  at  this  instant 
in  a  violent  hurry,  and  with  the  utmost  eagerness,  cried  out, 
"O  madam !  I  have  strange  news.  Tom  the  footman  is 
just  come  from  the  George;  where,  it  seems,  Joseph  and  the 
rest  of  them  are  a  jinketting;  and  he  says  there  is  a  strange 

3°3 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

man  who  hath  discovered  that  Fanny  and  Joseph  are  brother 
and  sister." — "How,  Slipslop !"  cries  the  lady,  in  a  surprise. — 
"I  had  not  time,  madam,"  cries  Slipslop,  "to  inquire  about 
particles,  but  Tom  says  it  is  most  certainly  true." 

This  unexpected  account  entirely  obliterated  all  those  ad- 
mirable reflections  which  the  supreme  power  of  reason  had 
so  wisely  made  just  before.  In  short,  when  despair,  which 
had  more  share  in  producing  the  resolutions  of  hatred  we 
have  seen  taken,  began  to  retreat,  the  lady  hesitated  a  moment, 
and  then,  forgetting  all  the  purport  of  her  soliloquy,  dis- 
missed her  woman  again,  with  orders  to  bid  Tom  attend  her  in 
the  parlour,  whither  she  now  hastened  to  acquaint  Pamela 
with  the  news.  Pamela  said  she  could  not  believe  it ;  for 
she  had  never  heard  that  her  mother  had  lost  any  child,  or 
that  she  had  ever  had  any  more  than  Joseph  and  herself. 
The  lady  flew  into  a  violent  rage  with  her,  and  talked  of  up- 
starts and  disowning  relations  who  had  so  lately  been  on  a 
level  with  her.  Pamela  made  no  answer;  but  her  husband, 
taking  up  her  cause,  severely  reprimanded  his  aunt  for  her 
behaviour  to  his  wife :  he  told  her,  if  it  had  been  earlier  in 
the  evening  she  should  not  have  staid  a  moment  longer  in 
her  house ;  that  he  was  convinced,  if  this  young  woman  could 
be  proved  her  sister,  she  would  readily  embrace  her  as  such, 
and  he  himself  would  do  the  same.  He  then  desired  the  fel- 
low might  be  sent  for,  and  the  young  woman  with  him,  which 
Lady  Booby  immediately  ordered;  and,  thinking  proper  to 
make  some  apology  to  Pamela  for  what  she  had  said,  it  was 
readily  accepted,  and  all  things  reconciled. 

The  pedlar  now  attended,  as  did  Fanny  and  Joseph,  who 
would  not  quit  her;  the  parson  likewise  was  induced,  not 
only  by  curiosity,  of  which  he  had  no  small  portion,  but  by 
his  duty,  as  he  apprehended  it,  to  follow  them ;  for  he  con- 
tinued all  the  way  to  exhort  them,  who  were  now  breaking 
their  hearts,  to  offer  up  thanksgivings,  and  be  joyful  for  so 
miraculous  an  escape. 

When  they  arrived  at  Booby-Hall  they  were  presently 
called  into  the  parlour,  where  the  pedlar  repeated  the  same 
story  he  had  told  before,  and  insisted  on  the  truth  of  every 
circumstance ;  so  that  all  who  heard  him  were  extremely  well 

3°4 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

satisfied  of  the  truth,  except  Pamela,  who  imagined,  as  she 
had  never  heard  either  of  her  parents  mention  such  an  acci- 
dent, that  it  must  be  certainly  false;  and  except  the  Lady- 
Booby,  who  suspected  the  falsehood  of  the  story  from  her 
ardent  desire  that  it  should  be  true ;  and  Joseph,  who  feared 
its  truth,  from  his  earnest  wishes  that  it  might  prove  false. 

Mr  Booby  now  desired  them  all  to  suspend  their  curiosity 
and  absolute  belief  or  disbelief  till  the  next  morning,  when 
he  expected  old  Mr  Andrews  and  his  wife  to  fetch  himself 
and  Pamela  home  in  his  coach,  and  then  they  might  be  cer- 
tain of  perfectly  knowing  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  this  re- 
lation ;  in  which,  he  said,  as  there  were  many  strong  circum- 
stances to  induce  their  credit,  so  he  could  not  perceive  any 
interest  the  pedlar  could  have  in  inventing  it,  or  in  endeav- 
ouring to  impose  such  a  falsehood  on  them. 

The  Lady  Booby,  who  was  very  little  used  to  such  com- 
pany, entertained  them  all — viz.  her  nephew,  his  wife,  her 
brother  and  sister,  the  beau,  and  the  parson,  with  great  good 
humour  at  her  own  table.  As  to  the  pedlar,  she  ordered  him 
to  be  made  as  welcome  as  possible  by  her  servants.  All  the 
company  in  the  parlour,  except  the  disappointed  lovers,  who 
sat  sullen  and  silent,  were  full  of  mirth;  for  Mr  Booby  had 
prevailed  on  Joseph  to  ask  Mr  Didapper's  pardon,  with  which 
he  was  perfectly  satisfied.  Many  jokes  passed  between  the 
beau  and  the  parson,  chiefly  on  each  other's  dress ;  these  af- 
forded much  diversion  to  the  company.  Pamela  chid  her 
brother  Joseph  for  the  concern  which  he  exprest  at  discov- 
ering a  new  sister.  She  said,  if  he  loved  Fanny,  as  he  ought, 
with  a  pure  affection,  he  had  no  reason  to  lament  being  re- 
lated to  her. — Upon  which  Adams  began  to  discourse  on  Pla- 
tonic love ;  whence  he  made  a  quick  transition  to  the  joys  in 
the  next  world,  and  concluded  with  strongly  asserting  that 
there  was  no  such  thing  as  pleasure  in  this.  At  which  Pamela 
and  her  husband  smiled  on  one  another. 

This  happy  pair  proposing  to  retire  (for  no  other  person 
gave  the  least  symptom  of  desiring  rest),  they  all  repaired  to 
several  beds  provided  for  them  in  the  same  house;  nor  was 
Adams  himself  suffered  to  go  home,  it  being  a  stormy  night. 
Fanny  indeed  often  begged  she  might  go  home  with  the 

20  305 


THE   ADVENTURES    OF 

parson ;  but  her  stay  was  so  strongly  insisted  on,  that  she  at 
last,  by  Joseph's  advice,  consented. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

CONTAINING  SEVERAL  CURIOUS  NIGHT-ADVENTURES,  IN  WHICH 
MR  ADAMS  FELL  INTO  MANY  HAIR-BREADTH  'SCAPES,  PARTLY 
OWING  TO  HIS  GOODNESS,  AND  PARTLY  TO  HIS  INADVERTENCY. 

ABOUT  an  hour  after  they  had  all  separated  (it  being'  now 
JLjL  past  three  in  the  morning),  beau  Didapper,  whose  pas- 
sion for  Fanny  permitted  him  not  to  close  his  eyes,  but  had 
employed  his  imagination  in  contrivances  how  to  satisfy  his 
desires,  at  last  hit  on  a  method  by  which  he  hoped  to  effect  it. 
He  had  ordered  his  servant  to  bring  him  word  where  Fanny 
lay,  and  had  received  his  information ;  he  therefore  arose,  put 
on  his  breeches  and  nightgown,  and  stole  softly  along  the 
gallery  which  led  to  her  apartment ;  and,  being  come  to  the 
door,  as  he  imagined  it,  he  opened  it  with  the  least  noise 
possible  and  entered  the  chamber.  A  savour  now  invaded  his 
nostrils  which  he  did  not  expect  in  the  room  of  so  sweet  a 
young  creature,  and  which  might  have  probably  had  no  good 
effect  on  a  cooler  lover.  However,  he  groped  out  the  bed  with 
difficulty,  for  there  was  not  a  glimpse  of  light,  and,  opening  the 
curtains,  he  whispered  in  Joseph's  voice  (for  he  was  an  excel- 
lent mimic),  "Fanny,  my  angel!  I  am  come  to  inform  thee 
that  I  have  discovered  the  falsehood  of  the  story  we  last  night 
heard.  I  am  no  longer  thy  brother,  but  the  lover ;  nor  will  I 
be  delayed  the  enjoyment  of  thee  one  moment  longer.  You 
have  sufficient  assurances  of  my  constancy  not  to  doubt  my 
marrying  you,  and  it  would  be  want  of  love  to  deny  me  the 
possession  of  thy  charms." — So  saying,  he  disencumbered 
himself  from  the  little  clothes  he  had  on,  and,  leaping  into 
bed,  embraced  his  angel,  as  he  conceived  her,  with  great  rap- 
ture. If  he  was  surprized  at  receiving  no  answer,  he  was 
no  less  pleased  to  find  his  hug  returned  with  equal  ardour. 
He  remained  not  long  in  this  sweet  confusion ;  for  both  he 
and  his  paramour  presently  discovered  their  error.     Indeed 

306 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

it  was  no  other  than  the  accomplished  Slipslop  whom  he  had 
engaged ;  but,  though  she  immediately  knew  the  person  whom 
she  had  mistaken  for  Joseph,  he  was  at  a  loss  to  guess  at  the 
representative  of  Fanny.  He  had  so  little  seen  or  taken  no- 
tice of  this  gentlewoman,  that  light  itself  would  have  afforded 
him  no  assistance  in  his  conjecture.  Beau  Didapper  no  sooner 
had  perceived  his  mistake  than  he  attempted  to  escape  from 
the  bed  with  much  greater  haste  than  he  had  made  to  it ; 
but  the  watchful  Slipslop  prevented  him.  For  that  prudent 
woman,  being  disappointed  of  those  delicious  offerings  which 
her  fancy  had  promised  her  pleasure,  resolved  to  make  an 
immediate  sacrifice  to  her  virtue.  Indeed  she  wanted  an  op- 
portunity to  heal  some  wounds,  which  her  late  conduct  had, 
she  feared,  given  her  reputation ;  and,  as  she  had  a  wonderful 
presence  of  mind,  she  conceived  the  person  of  the  unfortunate 
beau  to  be  luckily  thrown  in  her  way  to  restore  her  lady's 
opinion  of  her  impregnable  chastity.  At  that  instant,  there- 
fore, when  he  offered  to  leap  from  the  bed,  she  caught  fast 
hold  of  his  shirt,  at  the  same  time  roaring  out,  "  O  thou 
villain !  who  hast  attacked  my  chastity,  and,  I  believe,  ruined 
me  in  my  sleep ;  I  will  swear  a  rape  against  thee,  I  will 
prosecute  thee  with  the  utmost  vengeance."  The  beau  at- 
tempted to  get  loose,  but  she  held  him  fast,  and  when  he 
struggled  she  cried  out  "  Murder !  murder !  rape !  robbery ! 
ruin !  "  At  which  words,  parson  Adams,  who  lay  in  the  next 
chamber,  wakeful,  and  meditating  on  the  pedlar's  discovery, 
jumped  out  of  bed,  and,  without  staying  to  put  a  rag  of  clothes 
on,  hastened  into  the  apartment  whence  the  cries  proceeded. 
He  made  directly  to  the  bed  in  the  dark,  where,  laying  hold  of 
the  beau's  skin  (for  Slipslop  had  torn  his  shirt  almost  off), 
and  finding  his  skin  extremely  soft,  and  hearing  him  in 
a  low  voice  begging  Slipslop  to  let  him  go,  he  no  longer 
doubted  but  this  was  the  young  woman  in  danger  of  ravish- 
ing, and  immediately  falling  on  the  bed,  and  laying  hold  on 
Slipslop's  chin,  where  he  found  a  rough  beard,  his  belief  was 
confirmed ;  he  therefore  rescued  the  beau,  who  presently  made 
his  escape,  and  then,  turning  towards  Slipslop,  received  such 
a  cuff  on  his  chops,  that,  his  wrath  kindling  instantly,  he 
offered  to  return  the  favour  so  stoutly,  that  had  poor  Slipslop 
received  the  fist,  which  in  the  dark  passed  by  her  and  fell  on 

3°7 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  pillow,  she  would  most  probably  have  given  up  the  ghost. 
Adams,  missing  his  blow,  fell  directly  on  Slipslop,  who  cuffed 
and  scratched  as  well  as  she  could;  nor  was  he  behindhand 
with  her  in  his  endeavours,  but  happily  the  darkness  of  the 
night  befriended  her.  She  then  cried  she  was  a  woman;  but 
Adams  answered,  she  was  rather  the  devil,  and  if  she  was  he 
would  grapple  with  him ;  and,  being  again  irritated  by  another 
stroke  on  the  chops,  he  gave  her  such  a  remembrance  in  the 
guts,  that  she  began  to  roar  loud  enough  to  be  heard  all  over 
the  house.  Adams  then,  seizing  her  by  the  hair  (for  her 
double-clout  had  fallen  off  in  the  scuffle),  pinned  her  head 
down  to  the  bolster,  and  then  both  called  for  lights  together. 
The  Lady  Booby,  who  was  as  wakeful  as  any  of  her  guests, 
had  been  alarmed  from  the  beginning;  and,  being  a  woman 
of  a  bold  spirit,  she  slipt  on  a  nightgown,  petticoat,  and  slip- 
pers, and  taking  a  candle,  which  always  burnt  in  her  chamber, 
in  her  hand,  she  walked  undauntedly  to  Slipslop's  room; 
where  she  entered  just  at  the  instant  as  Adams  had  discovered, 
by  the  two  mountains  which  Slipslop  carried  before  her,  that 
he  was  concerned  with  a  female.  He  then  concluded  her  to 
be  a  witch,  and  said  he  fancied  those  breasts  gave  suck  to  a 
legion  of  devils.  Slipslop,  seeing  Lady  Booby  enter  the  room, 
cried  help !  or  I  am  ravished,  with  a  most  audible  voice :  and 
Adams,  perceiving  the  light,  turned  hastily,  and  saw  the  lady 
(as  she  did  him)  just  as  she  came  to  the  feet  of  the  bed;  nor 
did  her  modesty,  when  she  found  the  naked  condition  of 
Adams,  suffer  her  to  approach  farther.  She  then  began  to 
revile  the  parson  as  the  wickedest  of  all  men,  and  particularly 
railed  at  his  impudence  in  choosing  her  house  for  the  scene 
of  his  debaucheries,  and  her  own  woman  for  the  object  of  his 
bestiality.  Poor  Adams  had  before  discovered  the  counte- 
nance of  his  bedfellow,  and,  now  first  recollecting  he  was 
naked,  he  was  no  less  confounded  than  Lady  Booby  herself, 
and  immediately  whipt  under  the  bed-clothes,  whence  the 
chaste  Slipslop  endeavoured  in  vain  to  shut  him  out.  Then 
putting  forth  his  head,  on  which,  by  way  of  ornament,  he 
wore  a  flannel  nightcap,  he  protested  his  innocence,  and  asked 
ten  thousand  pardons  of  Mrs  Slipslop  for  the  blows  he  had 
struck  her,  vowing  he  had  mistaken  her  for  a  witch.  Lady 
Booby,  then  casting  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  observed  some- 

308 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

thing  sparkle  with  great  lustre,  which,  when  she  had  taken 
it  up,  appeared  to  be  a  very  fine  pair  of  diamond  buttons 
for  the  sleeves.  A  little  farther  she  saw  lie  the  sleeve  itself 
of  a  shirt  with  lace  ruffles.  "  Heyday !  "  says  she,  "  what  is 
the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  "  O,  madam,"  says  Slipslop,  "  I  don't 
know  what  hath  happened,  I  have  been  so  terrified.  Here 
may  have  been  a  dozen  men  in  the  room."  "  To  whom  be- 
longs this  laced  shirt  and  jewels?"  says  the  lady.  "Un- 
doubtedly," cries  the  parson,  "  to  the  young  gentleman  whom 
I  mistook  for  a  woman  on  coming  into  the  room,  whence 
proceeded  all  the  subsequent  mistakes ;  for  if  I  had  suspected 
him  for  a  man,  I  would  have  seized  him,  had  he  been  an- 
other Hercules,  though,  indeed,  he  seems  rather  to  resemble 
Hylas."  He  then  gave  an  account  of  the  reason  of  his  rising 
from  bed,  and  the  rest,  till  the  lady  came  into  the  room ;  at 
which,  and  the  figures  of  Slipslop  and  her  gallant,  whose 
heads  only  were  visible  at  the  opposite  corners  of  the  bed, 
she  could  not  refrain  from  laughter;  nor  did  Slipslop  persist 
in  accusing  the  parson  of  any  motions  towards  a  rape.  The 
lady  therefore  desired  him  to  return  to  his  bed  as  soon  as  she 
was  departed,  and  then  ordering  Slipslop  to  rise  and  attend  her 
in  her  own  room,  she  returned  herself  thither.  When  she 
was  gone,  Adams  renewed  his  petitions  for  pardon  to  Mrs 
Slipslop,  who,  with  a  most  Christian  temper,  not  only  forgave, 
but  began  to  move  with  much  courtesy  towards  him,  which 
he  taking  as  a  hint  to  be  gone,  immediately  quitted  the  bed, 
and  made  the  best  of  his  way  towards  his  own ;  but  unluckily, 
instead  of  turning  to  the  right,  he  turned  to  the  left,  and  went 
to  the  apartment  where  Fanny  lay,  who  (as  the  reader  may 
remember)  had  not  slept  a  wink  the  preceding  night,  and  who 
was  so  hagged  out  with  what  had  happened  to  her  in  the  day, 
that,  notwithstanding  all  thoughts  of  her  Joseph,  she  was  fallen 
into  so  profound  a  sleep,  that  all  the  noise  in  the  adjoining 
room  had  not  been  able  to  disturb  her.  Adams  groped  out  the 
bed,  and,  turning  the  clothes  down  softly,  a  custom  Mrs 
Adams  had  long  accustomed  him  to,  crept  in,  and  deposited 
his  carcase  on  the  bed-post,  a  place  which  that  good  woman 
had  always  assigned  him. 

As  the  cat  or  lap-dog  of  some  lovely  nymph,  for  whom  ten 
thousand  lovers  languish,  lies  quietly  by  the  side  of  the  charm- 

3°9 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF 

ing  maid,  and,  ignorant  of  the  scene  of  delight  on  which  they 
repose,  meditates  the  future  capture  of  a  mouse,  or  surprizal 
of  a  plate  of  bread  and  butter :  so  Adams  lay  by  the  side  of 
Fanny,  ignorant  of  the  paradise  to  which  he  was  so  near ;  nor 
could  the  emanation  of  sweets  which  flowed  from  her  breath 
overpower  the  fumes  of  tobacco  which  played  in  the  parson's 
nostrils.  And  now  sleep  had  not  overtaken  the  good  man, 
when  Joseph,  who  had  secretly  appointed  Fanny  to  come  to 
her  at  the  break  of  day,  rapped  softly  at  the  chamber-door, 
which  when  he  had  repeated  twice,  Adams  cried,  "  Come  in, 
whoever  you  are."  Joseph  thought  he  had  mistaken  the  door, 
though  she  had  given  him  the  most  exact  directions ;  however, 
knowing  his  friend's  voice,  he  opened  it,  and  saw  some  female 
vestments  lying  on  a  chair.  Fanny  waking  at  the  same  instant, 
and  stretching  out  her  hand  on  Adams's  beard,  she  cried  out, — 
"  O  heavens  !  where  am  I  ?  "  "  Bless  me  !  where  am  I  ?  "  said 
the  parson.  Then  Fanny  screamed,  Adams  leapt  out  of  bed, 
and  Joseph  stood,  as  the  tragedians  call  it,  like  the  statue  of 
Surprize.  "  How  came  she  into  my  room  ?  "  cried  Adams. 
"  How  came  you  into  hers  ?  "  cried  Joseph,  in  an  astonish- 
ment. '  I  know  nothing  of  the  matter,"  answered  Adams, 
"  but  that  she  is  a  vestal  for  me.  As  I  am  a  Christian,  I  know 
not  whether  she  is  a  man  or  woman.  He  is  an  infidel  who 
doth  not  believe  in  witchcraft.  They  as  surely  exist  now  as 
in  the  days  of  Saul.  My  clothes  are  bewitched  away  too,  and 
Fanny's  brought  into  their  place."  For  he  still  insisted  he 
was  in  his  own  apartment;  but  Fanny  denied  it  vehemently, 
and  said  his  attempting  to  persuade  Joseph  of  such  a  false- 
hood convinced  her  of  his  wicked  designs.  "  How !  "  said 
Joseph  in  a  rage,  "  hath  he  offered  any  rudeness  to  you  ?  " 
She  answered — she  could  not  accuse  him  of  any  more  than 
villanously  stealing  to  bed  to  her,  which  she  thought  rudeness 
sufficient,  and  what  no  man  would  do  without  a  wicked  in- 
tention. 

Joseph's  great  opinion  of  Adams  was  not  easily  to  be  stag- 
gered, and  when  he  heard  from  Fanny  that  no  harm  had 
happened  he  grew  a  little  cooler;  yet  still  he  was  confounded, 
and,  as  he  knew  the  house,  and  that  the  women's  apartments 
were  on  this  side  Mrs  Slipslop's  room,  and  the  men's  on  the 
other,  he  was  convinced  that  he  was  in  Fanny's  chamber. 

310 


JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

Assuring  Adams  therefore  of  this  truth,  he  begged  him  to 
give  some  account  how  he  came  there.  Adams  then,  standing 
in  his  shirt,  which  did  not  offend  Fanny,  as  the  curtains 
of  the  bed  were  drawn,  related  all  that  had  happened;  and 
when  he  had  ended  Joseph  told  him, — it  was  plain  he  had 
mistaken  by  turning  to  the  right  instead  of  the  left.  "  Odso  !  " 
cries  Adams,  "  that's  true :  as  sure  as  sixpence,  you  have  hit 
on  the  very  thing."  He  then  traversed  the  room,  rubbing 
his  hands,  and  begged  Fanny's  pardon,  assuring  her  he  did 
not  know  whether  she  was  man  or  woman.  That  innocent 
creature,  firmly  believing  all  he  said,  told  him  she  was  no 
longer  angry,  and  begged  Joseph  to  conduct  him  into  his 
own  apartment,  where  he  should  stay  himself  till  she  had 
put  her  clothes  on.  Joseph  and  Adams  accordingly  departed, 
and  the  latter  soon  was  convinced  of  the  mistake  he  had 
committed;  however,  whilst  he  was  dressing  himself,  he 
often  asserted  he  believed  in  the  power  of  witchcraft  not- 
withstanding, and  did  not  see  how  a  Christian  could  deny  it. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  ARRIVAL  OF  GAFFAR  AND  GAMMAR  ANDREWS,  WITH 
ANOTHER  PERSON  NOT  MUCH  EXPECTED;  AND  A  PERFECT 
SOLUTION  OF  THE  DIFFICULTIES  RAISED  BY  THE  PEDLAR. 

AS  soon  as  Fanny  was  drest  Joseph  returned  to  her,  and 
-/~\.  they  had  a  long  conversation  together,  the  conclusion  of 
which  was,  that,  if  they  found  themselves  to  be  really  brother 
and  sister,  they  vowed  a  perpetual  celibacy,  and  to  live  to- 
gether all  their  days,  and  indulge  a  Platonic  friendship  for 
each  other. 

The  company  were  all  very  merry  at  breakfast,  and  Joseph 
and  Fanny  rather  more  cheerful  than  the  preceding  night. 
The  Lady  Booby  produced  the  diamond  button,  which  the 
beau  most  readily  owned,  and  alleged  that  he  was  very  subject 
to  walk  in  his  sleep.  Indeed,  he  was  far  from  being  ashamed 
of  his  amour,  and  rather  endeavoured  to  insinuate  that  more 

3" 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

than  was  really  true  had  passed  between  him  and  the  fair 
Slipslop. 

Their  tea  was  scarce  over  when  news  came  of  the  arrival 
of  old  Mr  Andrews  and  his  wife.  They  were  immediately 
introduced,  and  kindly  received  by  the  Lady  Booby,  whose 
heart  went  now  pit-a-pat,  as  did  those  of  Joseph  and  Fanny. 
They  felt,  perhaps,  little  less  anxiety  in  this  interval  than 
(Edipus  himself,  whilst  his  fate  was  revealing. 

Mr  Booby  first  opened  the  cause  by  informing  the  old  gen- 
tleman that  he  had  a  child  in  the  company  more  than  he  knew 
of,  and,  taking  Fanny  by  the  hand,  told  him,  this  was  that 
daughter  of  his  who  had  been  stolen  away  by  gipsies  in  her 
infancy.  Mr  Andrews,  after  expressing  some  astonishment, 
assured  his  honour  that  he  had  never  lost  a  daughter  by  gip- 
sies, nor  ever  had  any  other  children  than  Joseph  and  Pamela. 
These  words  were  a  cordial  to  the  two  lovers ;  but  had  a  dif- 
ferent effect  on  Lady  Booby.  She  ordered  the  pedlar  to  be 
called,  who  recounted  his  story  as  he  had  done  before. — At 
the  end  of  which,  old  Mrs  Andrews,  running  to  Fanny,  em- 
braced her,  crying  out,  "  She  is,  she  is  my  child !  "  The 
company  were  all  amazed  at  this  disagreement  between  the 
man  and  his  wife ;  and  the  blood  had  now  forsaken  the  cheeks 
of  the  lovers,  when  the  old  woman,  turning  to  her  husband, 
who  was  more  surprized  than  all  the  rest,  and  having  a  little 
recovered  her  own  spirits,  delivered  herself  as  follows  :  "You 
may  remember,  my  dear,  when  you  went  a  Serjeant  to  Gib- 
raltar, you  left  me  big  with  child ;  you  stayed  abroad,  you 
know,  upwards  of  three  years.  In  your  absence  I  was 
brought  to  bed,  I  verily  believe,  of  this  daughter,  whom  I 
am  sure  I  have  reason  to  remember,  for  I  suckled  her  at  this 
very  breast  till  the  day  she  was  stolen  from  me.  One  after- 
noon, when  the  child  was  about  a  year,  or  a  year  and  a  half 
old,  or  thereabouts,  two  gipsy-women  came  to  the  door  and 
offered  to  tell  my  fortune.  One  of  them  had  a  child  in  her 
lap.  I  showed  them  my  hand,  and  desired  to  know  if  you 
was  ever  to  come  home  again,  which  I  remember  as  well  as 
if  it  was  but  yesterday :  they  faithfully  promised  me  you 
should. — I  left  the  girl  in  the  cradle,  and  went  to  draw  them 
a  cup  of  liquor,  the  best  I  had :  when  I  returned  with  the  pot 

312 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

(I  am  sure  I  was  not  absent  longer  than  whilst  I  am  telling 
it  to  you)  the  women  were  gone.  I  was  afraid  they  had  stolen 
something,  and  looked  and  looked,  but  to  no  purpose,  and, 
Heaven  knows,  I  had  very  little  for  them  to  steal.  At  last, 
hearing  the  child  cry  in  the  cradle,  I  went  to  take  it  up — but, 

0  the  living !  how  was  I  surprized  to  find,  instead  of  my  own 
girl  that  I  had  put  into  the  cradle,  who  was  as  fine  a  fat 
thriving  child  as  you  shall  see  in  a  summer's  day,  a  poor 
sickly  boy,  that  did  not  seem  to  have  an  hour  to  live.  I  ran 
out,  pulling  my  hair  off,  and  crying  like  any  mad  after  the 
women,  but  never  could  hear  a  word  of  them  from  that  day 
to  this.  When  I  came  back  the  poor  infant  (which  is  our  Jo- 
seph there,  as  stout  as  he  now  stands)  lifted  up  his  eyes  upon 
me  so  piteously,  that,  to  be  sure,  notwithstanding  my  passion, 

1  could  not  find  in  my  heart  to  do  it  any  mischief.  A  neigh- 
bour of  mine,  happening  to  come  in  at  the  same  time,  and 
hearing  the  case,  advised  me  to  take  care  of  this  poor  child, 
and  God  would  perhaps  one  day  restore  me  my  own.  Upon 
which  I  took  the  child  up,  and  suckled  it  to  be  sure,  all  the 
world  as  if  it  had  been  born  of  my  own  natural  body ;  and  as 
true  as  I  am  alive,  in  a  little  time  I  loved  the  boy  all  to  nothing 
as  if  it  had  been  my  own  girl. — Well,  as  I  was  saying,  times 
growing  very  hard,  I  having  two  children  and  nothing  but 
my  own  work,  which  was  little  enough  God  knows,  to  main- 
tain them,  was  obliged  to  ask  relief  of  the  parish ;  but,  in- 
stead of  giving  it  me,  they  removed  me,  by  justices'  warrants, 
fifteen  miles,  to  the  place  where  I  now  live,  where  I  had  not 
been  long  settled  before  you  came  home.  Joseph  (for  that 
was  the  name  I  gave  him  myself — the  Lord  knows  whether 
he  was  baptised  or  no,  or  by  what  name),  Joseph,  I  say, 
seemed  to  me  about  five  years  old  when  you  returned ;  for  I 
believe  he  is  two  or  three  years  older  than  our  daughter  here 
(for  I  am  thoroughly  convinced  she  is  the  same)  ;  and  when 
you  saw  him  you  said  he  was  a  chopping  boy,  without  ever 
minding  his  age ;  and  so  I,  seeing  you  did  not  suspect  any- 
thing of  the  matter,  thought  I  might  e'en  as  well  keep  it  to 
myself,  for  fear  you  should  not  love  him  as  well  as  I  did. 
And  all  this  is  veritably  true,  and  I  will  take  my  oath  of  it 
before  any  justice  in  the  kingdom." 

3*3 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

The  pedlar,  who  had  been  summoned  by  the  order  of  Lady 
Booby,  listened  with  the  utmost  attention  to  Gammar  An- 
drews's story ;  and,  when  she  had  finished,  asked  her  if  the 
supposititious  child  had  no  mark  on  its  breast?  To  which 
she  answered,  yes,  he  had  as  fine  a  strawberry  as  ever  grew 
in  a  garden.  This  Joseph  acknowledged,  and,  unbuttoning 
his  coat,  at  the  intercession  of  the  company,  showed  to  them. 
'  Well,"  says  Gaffar  Andrews,  who  was  a  comical  sly  old 
fellow,  and  very  likely  desired  to  have  no  more  children  than 
he  could  keep,  "  you  have  proved,  I  think,  very  plainly,  that 
this  boy  doth  not  belong  to  us ;  but  how  are  you  certain  that 
the  girl  is  ours?"  The  parson  then  brought  the  pedlar  for- 
ward, and  desired  him  to  repeat  the  story  which  he  had  com- 
municated to  him  the  preceding  day  at  the  ale-house ;  which 
he  complied  with,  and  related  what  the  reader,  as  well  as 
Mr  Adams,  hath  seen  before.  He  then  confirmed,  from  his 
wife's  report,  all  the  circumstances  of  the  exchange,  and  of 
the  strawberry  on  Joseph's  breast.  At  the  repetition  of  the 
word  strawberry,  Adams,  who  had  seen  it  without  any  emo- 
tion, started  and  cried,  "  Bless  me !  something  comes  into  my 
head."  But  before  he  had  time  to  bring  anything  out  a  ser- 
vant called  him  forth.  When  he  was  gone  the  pedlar  assured 
Joseph  that  his  parents  were  persons  of  much  greater  circum- 
stances than  those  he  had  hitherto  mistaken  for  such ;  for  that 
he  had  been  stolen  from  a  gentleman's  house  by  those  whom 
they  call  gipsies,  and  had  been  kept  by  them  during  a  whole 
year,  when,  looking  on  him  as  in  a  dying  condition,  they  had 
exchanged  him  for  the  other  healthier  child,  in  the  manner 
before  related.  He  said,  as  to  the  name  of  his  father,  his 
wife  had  either  never  known  or  forgot  it ;  but  that  she  had  ac- 
quainted him  he  lived  about  forty  miles  from  the  place  where 
the  exchange  had  been  made,  and  which  way,  promising  to 
spare  no  pains  in  endeavouring  with  him  to  discover  the  place. 
But  Fortune,  which  seldom  doth  good  or  ill,  or  makes 
men  happy  or  miserable,  by  halves,  resolved  to  spare  him 
this  labour.  The  reader  may  please  to  recollect  that  Mr  Wil- 
son had  intended  a  journey  to  the  west,  in  which  he  was  to 
pass  through  Mr  Adams's  parish,  and  had  promised  to  call 
on  him.    He  was  now  arrived  at  the  Lady  Booby's  gates  for 

3X4 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

that  purpose,  being  directed  thither  from  the  parson's  house, 
and  had  sent  in  the  servant  whom  we  have  above  seen  call 
Mr  Adams  forth.  This  had  no  sooner  mentioned  the  dis- 
covery of  a  stolen  child,  and  had  uttered  the  word  strawberry, 
than  Mr  Wilson,  with  wildness  in  his  looks,  and  the  utmost 
eagerness  in  his  words,  begged  to  be  shown  into  the  room, 
where  he  entered  without  the  least  regard  to  any  of  the  com- 
pany but  Joseph,  and,  embracing  him  with  a  complexion  all 
pale  and  trembling,  desired  to  see  the  mark  on  his  breast ; 
the  parson  followed  him  capering,  rubbing  his  hands,  and 
crying  out,  Hie  est  quern  quceris;  inventus  est,  &c.  Joseph 
complied  with  the  request  of  Mr  Wilson,  who  no  sooner  saw 
the  mark  than,  abandoning  himself  to  the  most  extravagant 
rapture  of  passion,  he  embraced  Joseph  with  inexpressible 
ecstasy,  and  cried  out  in  tears  of  joy,  "  I  have  discovered  my 
son,  I  have  him  again  in  my  arms !  "  Joseph  was  not  suffi- 
ciently apprized  yet  to  taste  the  same  delight  with  his  father 
(for  so  in  reality  he  was)  ;  however,  he  returned  some  warmth 
to  his  embraces :  but  he  no  sooner  perceived,  from  his  father's 
account,  the  agreement  of  every  circumstance,  of  person,  time, 
and  place,  than  he  threw  himself  at  his  feet,  and,  embracing 
his  knees,  with  tears  begged  his  blessing,  which  was  given 
with  much  affection,  and  received  with  such  respect,  mixed 
with  such  tenderness  on  both  sides,  that  it  affected  all  present ; 
but  none  so  much  as  Lady  Booby,  who  left  the  room  in  an 
agony,  which  was  but  too  much  perceived,  and  not  very  chari- 
tably accounted  for  by  some  of  the  company. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

BEING  THE   LAST,    IN    WHICH    THIS   TRUE    HISTORY   IS 
BROUGHT   TO   A    HAPPY    CONCLUSION. 

FANNY  was  very  little  behind  her  Joseph  in  the  duty  she 
exprest  towards  her  parents,  and  the  joy  she  evidenced 
in  discovering  them.  Gammar  Andrews  kissed  her,  and  said, 
she  was  heartily  glad  to  see  her;  but  for  her  part,  she  could 

3T5 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

never  love  any  one  better  than  Joseph.  Gaffar  Andrews  tes- 
tified no  remarkable  emotion :  he  blessed  and  kissed  her, 
but  complained  bitterly  that  he  wanted  his  pipe,  not  having 
had  a  whiff  that  morning. 

Mr  Booby,  who  knew  nothing  of  his  aunt's  fondness,  im- 
puted her  abrupt  departure  to  her  pride,  and  disdain  of  the 
family  into  which  he  was  married ;  he  was  therefore  desirous 
to  be  gone  with  the  utmost  celerity;  and  now,  having  con- 
gratulated Mr  Wilson  and  Joseph  on  the  discovery,  he  sa- 
luted Fanny,  called  her  sister,  and  introduced  her  as  such  to 
Pamela,  who  behaved  with  great  decency  on  the  occasion. 

He  now  sent  a  message  to  his  aunt,  who  returned  that  she 
wished  him  a  good  journey,  but  was  too  disordered  to  see  any 
company :  he  therefore  prepared  to  set  out,  having  invited 
Mr  Wilson  to  his  house ;  and  Pamela  and  Joseph  both  so 
insisted  on  his  complying,  that  he  at  last  consented,  having 
first  obtained  a  messenger  from  Mr  Booby  to  acquaint  his 
wife  with  the  news ;  which,  as  he  knew  it  would  render  her 
completely  happy,  he  could  not  prevail  on  himself  to  delay 
a  moment  in  acquainting  her  with. 

The  company  were  ranged  in  this  manner :  the  two  old 
people,  with  their  two  daughters,  rode  in  the  coach ;  the 
squire,  Mr  Wilson,  Joseph,  parson  Adams,  and  the  pedlar, 
proceeded  on  horseback. 

In  their  way,  Joseph  informed  his  father  of  his  intended 
match  with  Fanny;  to  which,  though  he  expressed  some  re- 
luctance at  first,  on  the  eagerness  of  his  son's  instances  he 
consented ;  saying,  if  she  was  so  good  a  creature  as  she  ap- 
peared, and  he  described  her,  he  thought  the  disadvantages 
of  birth  and  fortune  might  be  compensated.  He  however 
insisted  on  the  match  being  deferred  till  he  had  seen  his 
mother ;  in  which  Joseph  perceiving  him  positive,  with 
great  duty  obeyed  him,  to  the  great  delight  of  parson  Adams, 
who  by  these  means  saw  an  opportunity  of  fulfilling  the 
church  forms,  and  marrying  his  parishioners  without  a  li- 
cence. 

Mr  Adams,  greatly  exulting  on  this  occasion  (for  such 
ceremonies  were  matters  of  no  small  moment  with  him),  ac- 
cidentally gave  spurs  to  his  horse,  which  the  generous  beast 
disdaining, — for  he  was  of  high  mettle,  and  had  been  used 

316 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

to  more  expert  riders  than  the  gentleman  who  at  present  be- 
strode him,  for  whose  horsemanship  he  had  perhaps  some 
contempt, — immediately  ran  away  full  speed,  and  played 
so  many  antic  tricks  that  he  tumbled  the  parson  from  his 
back;  which  Joseph  perceiving,  came  to  his  relief. 

This  accident  afforded  infinite  merriment  to  the  servants, 
and  no  less  frighted  poor  Fanny,  who  beheld  him  as  he 
passed  by  the  coach ;  but  the  mirth  of  the  one  and  terror 
of  the  other  were  soon  determined,  when  the  parson  declared 
he  had  received  no  damage. 

The  horse  having  freed  himself  from  his  unworthy  rider, 
as  he  probably  thought  him,  proceeded  to  make  the  best  of 
his  way ;  but  was  stopped  by  a  gentleman  and  his  servants, 
who  were  travelling  the  opposite  way,  and  were  now  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  coach.  They  soon  met;  and  as  one 
of  the  servants  delivered  Adams  his  horse,  his  master  hailed 
him,  and  Adams,  looking  up,  presently  recollected  he  was 
the  justice  of  the  peace  before  whom  he  and  Fanny  had  made 
their  appearance.  The  parson  presently  saluted  him  very 
kindly;  and  the  justice  informed  him  that  he  had  found  the 
fellow  who  attempted  to  swear  against  him  and  the  young 
woman  the  very  next  day,  and  had  committed  him  to  Salis- 
bury gaol,  where  he  was  charged  with  many  robberies. 

Many  compliments  having  passed  between  the  parson  and 
the  justice,  the  latter  proceeded  on  his  journey;  and  the 
former,  having  with  some  disdain  refused  Joseph's  offer  of 
changing  horses,  and  declared  he  was  as  able  a  horseman  as 
any  in  the  kingdom,  remounted  his  beast ;  and  now  the  com- 
pany again  proceeded,  and  happily  arrived  at  their  journey's 
end,  Mr  Adams,  by  good  luck,  rather  than  by  good  riding, 
escaping  a  good  fall. 

The  company,  arriving  at  Mr  Booby's  house,  were  all  re- 
ceived by  him  in  the  most  courteous  and  entertained  in  the 
most  splendid  manner,  after  the  custom  of  the  old  English 
hospitality,  which  is  still  preserved  in  some  very  few  families 
in  the  remote  parts  of  England.  They  all  passed  that  day 
with  the  utmost  satisfaction ;  it  being  perhaps  impossible  to 
find  any  set  of  people  more  solidly  and  sincerely  happy.  Jo- 
seph and  Fanny  found  means  to  be  alone  upwards  of  two 
hours,  which  were  the  shortest  but  the  sweetest  imaginable. 

3i7 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

In  the  morning  Mr  Wilson  proposed  to  his  son  to  make  a 
visit  with  him  to  his  mother;  which,  notwithstanding  his 
dutiful  inclinations,  and  a  longing  desire  he  had  to  see  her, 
a  little  concerned  him,  as  he  must  be  obliged  to  leave  his 
Fanny ;  but  the  goodness  of  Mr  Booby  relieved  him ;  for  he 
proposed  to  send  his  own  coach  and  six  for  Mrs  Wilson, 
whom  Pamela  so  very  earnestly  invited,  that  Mr  Wilson  at 
length  agreed  with  the  entreaties  of  Mr  Booby  and  Joseph, 
and  suffered  the  coach  to  go  empty  for  his  wife. 

On  Saturday  night  the  coach  returned  with  Mrs  Wilson, 
who  added  one  more  to  this  happy  assembly.  The  reader 
may  imagine  much  better  and  quicker  too  than  I  can  describe 
the  many  embraces  and  tears  of  joy  which  succeeded  her 
arrival.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  she  was  easily  prevailed 
with  to  follow  her  husband's  example  in  consenting  to  the 
match. 

On  Sunday  Mr  Adams  performed  the  service  at  the  squire's 
parish  church,  the  curate  of  which  very  kindly  exchanged 
duty,  and  rode  twenty  miles  to  the  Lady  Booby's  parish  so  to 
do;  being  particularly  charged  not  to  omit  publishing  the 
banns,  being  the  third  and  last  time. 

At  length  the  happy  day  arrived  which  was  to  put  Joseph 
in  the  possession  of  all  his  wishes.  He  arose,  and  drest 
himself  in  a  neat  but  plain  suit  of  Mr  Booby's,  which  exactly 
fitted  him ;  for  he  refused  all  finery ;  as  did  Fanny  likewise, 
who  could  be  prevailed  on  by  Pamela  to  attire  herself  in  no- 
thing richer  than  a  white  dimity  nightgown.  Her  shift  in- 
deed, which  Pamela  presented  her,  was  of  the  finest  kind,  and 
had  an  edging  of  lace  round  the  bosom.  She  likewise 
equipped  her  with  a  pair  of  fine  white  thread  stockings,  which 
were  all  she  would  accept ;  for  she  wore  one  of  her  own  short 
round-eared  caps,  and  over  it  a  little  straw  hat,  lined  with 
cherry-coloured  silk,  and  tied  with  a  cherry-coloured  ribbon. 
In  this  dress  she  came  forth  from  her  chamber,  blushing  and 
breathing  sweets ;  and  was  by  Joseph,  whose  eyes  sparkled 
fire,  led  to  church,  the  whole  family  attending,  where  Mr 
Adams  performed  the  ceremony ;  at  which  nothing  was  so 
remarkable  as  the  extraordinary  and  unaffected  modesty  of 
Fanny,  unless  the  true  Christian  piety  of  Adams,  who  publicly 
rebuked  Mr  Booby  and  Pamela  for  laughing  in  so  sacred  a 

3i8 


JOSEPH  ANDREWS 

place,  and  so  solemn  an  occasion.  Our  parson  would  have 
done  no  less  to  the  highest  prince  on  earth ;  for,  though  he 
paid  all  submission  and  deference  to  his  superiors  in  other 
matters,  where  the  least  spice  of  religion  intervened  he  im- 
mediately lost  all  respect  of  persons.  It  was  his  maxim, 
that  he  was  a  servant  of  the  Highest,  and  could  not,  without 
departing  from  his  duty,  give  up  the  least  article  of  his  honour 
or  of  his  cause  to  the  greatest  earthly  potentate.  Indeed,  he 
always  asserted  that  Mr  Adams  at  church  with  his  surplice 
on,  and  Mr  Adams  without  that  ornament  in  any  other  place, 
were  two  very  different  persons. 

When  the  church  rites  were  over  Joseph  led  his  blooming 
bride  back  to  Mr  Booby's  (for  the  distance  was  so  very  little 
they  did  not  think  proper  to  use  a  coach)  ;  the  whole  com- 
pany attended  them  likewise  on  foot;  and  now  a  most  mag- 
nificent entertainment  was  provided,  at  which  parson  Adams 
demonstrated  an  appetite  surprizing  as  well  as  surpassing 
every  one  present.  Indeed  the  only  persons  who  betrayed 
any  deficiency  on  this  occasion  were  those  on  whose  account 
the  feast  was  provided.  They  pampered  their  imaginations 
with  the  much  more  exquisite  repast  which  the  approach  of 
night  promised  them ;  the  thoughts  of  which  filled  both  their 
minds,  though  with  different  sensations ;  the  one  all  desire, 
while  the  other  had  her  wishes  tempered  with  fears. 

At  length,  after  a  day  passed  with  the  utmost  merriment, 
corrected  by  the  strictest  decency,  in  which,  however,  parson 
Adams  being  well  filled  with  ale  and  pudding,  had  given  a 
loose  to  more  facetiousness  than  was  usual  to  him,  the  happy, 
the  blest  moment  arrived  when  Fanny  retired  with  her  mother, 
her  mother-in-law,  and  her  sister. 

She  was  soon  undrest ;  for  she  had  no  jewels  to  deposit  in 
their  caskets,  nor  fine  laces  to  fold  with  the  nicest  exactness. 
Undressing  to  her  was  properly  discovering,  not  putting  off, 
ornaments ;  for,  as  all  her  charms  were  the  gifts  of  nature, 
she  could  divest  herself  of  none.  How,  reader,  shall  I  give 
thee  an  adequate  idea  of  this  lovely  young  creature?  the 
bloom  of  roses  and  lilies  might  a  little  illustrate  her  com- 
plexion, or  their  smell  her  sweetness ;  but  to  comprehend  her 
entirely,  conceive  youth,  health,  bloom,  neatness,  and  inno- 
cence, in  her  bridal  bed;  conceive  all  these  in  their  utmost 

3X9 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  JOSEPH   ANDREWS 

perfection,  and  you  may  place  the  charming  Fanny's  picture 
before  your  eyes. 

Joseph  no  sooner  heard  she  was  in  bed  than  he  fled  with 
the  utmost  eagerness  to  her.  A  minute  carried  him  into  her 
arms,  where  we  shall  leave  this  happy  couple  to  enjoy  the 
private  rewards  of  their  constancy;  rewards  so  great  and 
sweet,  that  I  apprehend  Joseph  neither  envied  the  noblest 
duke,  nor  Fanny  the  finest  duchess,  that  night. 

The  third  day  Mr  Wilson  and  his  wife,  with  their  son  and 
daughter,  returned  home;  where  they  now  live  together  in 
a  state  of  bliss  scarce  ever  equalled.  Mr  Booby  hath,  with 
unprecedented  generosity,  given  Fanny  a  fortune  of  two  thou- 
sand pounds,  which  Joseph  hath  laid  out  in  a  little  estate  in 
the  same  parish  with  his  father,  which  he  now  occupies  (his 
father  having  stocked  it  for  him)  ;  and  Fanny  presides  with 
most  excellent  management  in  his  dairy;  where,  however, 
she  is  not  at  present  very  able  to  bustle  much,  being,  as  Mr 
Wilson  informs  me  in  his  last  letter,  extremely  big  with  her 
first  child. 

Mr  Booby  hath  presented  Mr  Adams  with  a  living  of  one 
hundred  and  thirty  pounds  a-year.  He  at  first  refused  it, 
resolving  not  to  quit  his  parishioners,  with  whom  he  had 
lived  so  long;  but,  on  recollecting  he  might  keep  a  curate  at 
this  living,  he  hath  been  lately  inducted  into  it. 

The  pedlar,  besides  several  handsome  presents,  both  from 
Mr  Wilson  and  Mr  Booby,  is,  by  the  latter's  interest,  made 
an  exciseman ;  a  trust  which  he  discharges  with  such  justice, 
that  he  is  greatly  beloved  in  his  neighbourhood. 

As  for  the  Lady  Booby,  she  returned  to  London  in  a  few 
days,  where  a  young  captain  of  dragoons,  together  with  eter- 
nal parties  at  cards,  soon  obliterated  the  memory  of  Joseph. 

Joseph  remains  blest  with  his  Fanny,  whom  he  doats  on 
with  the  utmost  tenderness,  which  is  all  returned  on  her 
side.  The  happiness  of  this  couple  is  a  perpetual  fountain 
of  pleasure  to  their  fond  parents ;  and,  what  is  particularly 
remarkable,  he  declares  he  will,  imitate  them  in  their  retire- 
ment, nor  will  be  prevailed  on  by  any  booksellers,  or  their 
authors,  to  make  his  appearance  in  high  life. 


320 


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